There are times where I must consider myself a beast
To desire to obliterate your self to satisfy my need for your pleasure
That you desire this as well gives me pause
Because I must consider myself your champion
A dark soul, a brightly burning messenger of the night
But yours
Not as a blade because this is not your necessity
But your tormentor
Your jailer
Your lover
Your protector
I must consider the line to walk between the obliteration of the self into a object of control and service and lust
And my ability to bring you back from that brink
And whispers sweet somethings
Engage in passion behind mere pleasure
And sit reading a book aloud for storytime
You are a joy I never thought would be
Author: Pelgris
Side by side
Winter’s heady laugh shakes the too frozen air
Like ice cracking before the sudden plunge to darkness
His Blade stalks streets
Confidence freezing, falling
Breaking in the whispered calm
This cut
This blood
A throaty laugh
Captured in the still
The Blade walks the streets
Cutting the too still air
Share this:
Song of the Day
Not a new band but new to me. Heard them this morning driving in to work on my local radio station KWSS and was blown away.
Share this:
My nightmare, my hell
Just woke up from a nightmare, my kind of nightmare, no maniacs or feelings of dread or anything. I have tripwires are the best way to describe it that will wake me to lucid dreaming if those happen.
This was at a vast mansion party. It was filled with debauchery which I’m normally fine with but there was a pervasive understanding that the people were being forced to participate. There were women wearing heavy chain collars described as soul mates of the person they were with who were forced to perform sexual acts on people other than their desire at the urging of their so called mates and both had hollow eyes empty of desire and this element of silent pleading.
All around broken people perverted love to satisfy physical lust. There was no passion or desire just the physical moment of release without any emotional connection. Anyone in one of the heavy chain collars was meat for the feast. These were all the so-called soul mates of others who had enslaved them and destroyed their will to the point where this was accepted. But there was no joy in it.
This is what the general public views BDSM as. This breaking of the will and using of others for pure physical release. And it is a perversion of all that I’ve enjoyed in the lifestyle. Of everything that I am.
There was no love there. No joy. No pleasure. No consent. Just destruction of sacred bonds and me, a ghost at the feast.
I couldn’t act. Couldn’t stop it, couldn’t twist the dream. I was awake enough to remember. Awake enough to be aware but not awake enough even to save those people.
It was a nightmare. To me, a living hell. A perversion of everything I’ve ever stood for or tried to convey. Sex disguised as love and rotting at the root of those involved. Destroying their ability to see and love. To see love as something other than this fear and destruction. And any that break free of this, few as there was the sense that the only freedom offered was death, there was only isolation and despair. The bedrock belief that none could love them after this experience.
It was a nightmare of epic proportion to me. I wish I could say that I woke of my own volition. But it felt like I was released.
Now, I want to find that dreamscape lucid and burn it down. Even as a dreamscape it is fundamentally wrong. And I can’t allow it to exist. Which may sound like madness. But I’m a dream walker. And it may be madness but, sadly, that doesn’t make it less real.
I have to confront the dream to make myself sane. To not allow the fear of that place win.
Share this:
Freedom found
I worry. I worry that whatever I am. This creature, this person I have chosen to be. This person I have actively defined by my choices.
I worry that when you finally see me, all that structure and facade will fall away and you’ll be left with what I am.
And all of that is a lie. It’s a lie that my fear tells my heart because it needs to maintain its control. But it is a lie.
I have constructed myself but it was like chipping away at a hunk of marble. I didn’t build a structure on top of a structure. There is no facade. There is just this false feeling of being an imposter. Because if I’m all that I am and then I fail it will be because I was not enough. Or because what I am is not what is desired. And that is my fear. Not that something I’ve done or not done will be the cause of rejection but that despite it all. Despite who I am, I am somehow not what is wanted.
That’s the fear. It’s not that I am an imposter and will be found out. It’s that I’m NOT and despite it all will still be found wanting. And I can’t do anything about that. I can be me. I can show up and put all the tools and processes and everything I am and if it’s still not enough, then we’re just not meant to be. Not meant to click and choose each other.
And seeing that now, I wonder at what I was afraid of? Afraid that I’d be rejected by someone who won’t, who can’t see me? Can’t value me?
There might be pain because I will have invested emotionally but if you can’t love who I am, why should I allow that to hurt me. It should instead free me. And it does
Share this:
Good morning
Motes rush in binding to receptors filling the spaces too small and too big
Binding and converting
Feeding the colossal thing
Towering deeply
Landscape rises
Unsettling and disturbing
The too fast drumbeat
Driving more and more to sacrifice to this abominable thing
Structures bend and shake
The shift and tremble
Waves cascade into whirlpools of white and the darkest abyss
Popping and crackling fills the sky
The leviathan awakes
Share this:
Muscle memory
My heart rips it’s way out of my chest
It flies away east, looking for her
It’s filled with the dark loving of her
Too heavy to make the journey
But Hope’s foolish song
Pulls it forward
I watch it wing away
Stuck rooted to the ground by the sure knowledge
That it won’t work
That there’s no ending that starts with sweeping her off her feet
But all I can do is watch
Blood patters to the thirsty earth
Chest hollow
No longer filled with even the wanting
I watch
And pray
Though I don’t pray
But hope loudly
To whatever power
Laughs it’s way through my life
I pray
That my heart will find her
And be safe
Or else
Die on the journey
Share this:
Song of The Day
A bit of mellow mixed with something so dance-able. And me being me, I like it as a song to look into a lover’s eye and drown ourselves in the sensation of touch
Share this:
The shop on the corner
Give me the heat that rises out
A tired smile grows to full
Our bones a resonant hum
A quick quiet heartbeat
That moment
When you are the world entire
And I
Am but sunshine
Dappling your eyes
Share this:
Just…what…uh…no idea
I’m in a position now where I want so much to be holding in my arms the ones that I love. But I know that is either a distant future or a impossibility and I have to deal with that.
In a way it’s like a breakup but without the constant questioning and self recriminations. In this case I know the reasons. I just lament them.
Right now, I’m sad often and I don’t want to be but I also don’t know how to stop it my self.
I’ve been incredibly lucky to meet extraordinary people through my blog and though some hurt me, I still feel incredibly fortunate to have the chance to be with people who meet my mind first rather than the crucible of a dating site or a munch or something. Because, I’m not great at those.
Let’s be clear. I’m weird. I have odd notions and hobbies. I have strange views and see things differently. What the majority find interesting, I find mostly a nuisance. I point this out, not to set myself apart, but to demonstrate that I feel as if I’m a outsider.
When you add in BDSM and a preference for strong submissives, I find I’ve narrowed my interests perhaps too narrowly.
I’d love to say that such a narrow focus means that I find my way clear but really I’m all a muddle.
I scare people away because I’m intense and always seek clarity. Not because I am meek but because I can have a effect where I bowl someone over.
But then I just melt if someone says, “Yes, Sir,” and means it.
I don’t know where forward is. Or if I need to heal first. Or if I just need someone I love to look me in the eyes and say “Yes, I choose you” and mean it down to their bones.
Pelgris 