Reflections are merely doors, I’m willing to step through

I have only sad words and hopeless thoughts today
Trending in this down spiral
Reaching for a touch to anchor me
Words of lament masked in strength and laughter
Wanting that kiss, that hold that seems too far distant to ever be real
And still, I dream
And still, I wish
Not in hope
But in planning
Waiting for the last word
Last turn of the card
To make what seems
Into what is

Nightmares are also dreams Part 27

I see now that I’ve managed to push Sara into business mode. Shifting her personality a few degrees to command rather than submissive. Though, truthfully, she’s not the type to be submissive in all things. But generally on scene days she is able to let go enough to be in the moment.

I suppose the fear of being outed to her parents and oh so conservative family is enough to make her put on a different personality to combat that fear.

I gather a few ‘props’ for the photo shoot from our toy chest, depositing them into individual dark bags that are padded so that you cannot tell what is contained within. These will be used as punishments or inducements during the shoot.

I take them out to the living room which has been taken over by the team which normally handles disguises and document creation for the ‘Spire. They have Sara in a chair and are working on making the nest of her hair into something photo worthy. Once that is done they will do her makeup and we’ll almost be ready.

It is interesting that she chose the outfit she did. But perhaps she didn’t want to stray too far from the feminine. She is well aware that I would have accepted her in a suit and that would mean less makeup, generally. And less hair manipulation.

In any case, I can see the change in her demeanor if nothing else. It’s as if her makeup and hair is armor. And perhaps it is. I’ll be called upon to say perfection or beautiful but as long as she is confident and being herself she will always be pretty. And her beauty is all about her spirit and intelligence. The truth is, I will pass judgment on aesthetics alone and leave my too biased emotions out of it.

Plus, well…anyone is lovely sporting willingness and a ballgag.

We’ll have to wait and see about the willingness. But the collar, the chain, and even the ball gag. Those are not negotiable.

Cyanide and honeyed garlic

Knowledge is the price of freedom
It always has been.
Not the not knowing…ignorance is slavery
No, the price of freedom is Knowing
Knowing truths
Unpleasant, often horrible, truths
Which is why humanity spends so much time and energy hiding
Retreating and backpedaling from the reality that they see
Rising up in glorious moments of comprehension
until they see one truth too many and it sends them scurrying back to the poisoned lullaby sleep of ignorance
That slip back into “simpler times”
The false memories of how good it used to be
Disregarding that it was the persuit of knowledge and a deep distrust of willful ignorance that little by little
dragged you into the a future filled with wonders
Never before in history has humanity had so much
Even the poorest of us
trapped in imposed cycles of blood and poverty have to hand more luxury than ever seen before
And still, the people with the most keep falling back
Keep retreating from truth because
its hard, its so hard
Like children whose days of play have been ripped away
trying for one more minute of ignorance
unwilling to pay the butchers bill that their ignorance has accrued
Instead doubling down again and again
that fevered gambler hoping desperately that they can eak out one more turn of the cards
while the world around them burns,
at last we come to the end of knowledge
abutting its happy and callous head against Truth
Where choices matter more and more
the world changes on a whim
Forged by those who’ve forgotten that it’s the
Enlightened part of self interest that makes civilization work

Each step equidistant from future and past

I am brightness in darkness
Kindness in tragedy
A pleasurable reprieve in the darkling sea
And in the light
The shine that pulled you away from pain
Glimmers with dark light
No bright bird sharing cheer and excitement
Dark croak and sardonic cuts
Too bright for one world
Too dark for the other
And here I stand
On the borders
Betwixt
Calling your name

The ritual of waking

The day begins in reluctance
In putting out of the mind all the things
All the things outside of control
And choose breakfast
My kind of breakfast
Crunchy peanut butter and Strawberry Jam on molasses toast
Downing water
Reading a book
Anything to not think about
Not take the next step
Because then it begins
The shower and the dressing
The shoes I never wear except in the public world
Drawing down my war personality
Pieces of me shutting off
Transition to a darker mien
Each step taking me from where I prefer
From safety
From the place where I grow
To the place where I am diminished
Because, in this world, what I am and what I do
Does not pay for food
For space to breathe
For shelter
Instead I subject myself to the whims of others
Without agency
Without choice except to live in poverty
It’s worse now
Before I was given responsibility
Before I was given trust
And before it was all taken away
Every day it gets worse
Every day I learn more
Maybe enough to leave
But
I’m just procrastinating
That first step to begin the day
To all of us in that same position
Declaiming, in lament, It is what it is
Remember
It is not
Will be
We still have choices
Even if we can’t yet see their horizons