Heart of Stone

In honor of October:

Groggy, a man blinks the sleep from his eyes. His eyelids are heavy, so heavy, like lifting a dumbbell with pinkies. Bright light sears corneas, squinting, he tries to lift his hands to shield his eyes. His arms! They’re tied down. Looking down the length of his body he sees his hand are restrained in padded cuffs. His shirt is cut open, explaining the chill. This circle of bright light hides the the rest of what feels like a large area. A orange ember flares in the darkness beyond the lights circle.

“Who’s there!, ” the man shouts.

A low voice from the shadows rumbles, “Good, I was afraid I’d get the dose wrong.”
A face thrust itself from behind the top of the Man’s skull. It smiles and giggles. It’s the girl from last night!

“Get me out of here, you stupid cunt, ” the man yells.

” Now, now, “the voice from the shadows rumbles, ” we mustn’t be impolite. Not when she brings us such a unique gift.”

A tall person steps from the shadows, takes the last drag on their cigarette, then stubs it out on the left nipple of the man.

Screams echo out, slamming and reverbing from walls designed to dampen sound.

The person waits. Waits for the Screams to degenerate to sobs.

“Now, the young lady tells me very bad things about you. Let me whisper it in your ear. Young ladies shouldn’t need to hear such things. ”

Leaning down, the person whispers, “You raped her. She pleaded, begged you to stop. But you took and took. She tells me, you are a monster.”

Standing, smiling down at the man, the person cheerfully says, “She tells me you have a Heart of Stone. That is very interesting. I happen to need a Heart of Stone, for my work. ”

“Now, young lady, bring me the bolt cutters, then scury off. No need to get blood all over you, it’s so hard to get out of clothing.” Aside, almost to their selves, “But we must wear clothing, civilization demands it.”

The man pleads, “I have money, you can have it, just let me go, please… Please.”

The person waits for the outer door to slam shut.

” All good and proper, now we are alone. What was it you were saying ” the person cocks their head to the side, like they are listening to someone, ” money?”

“Thank you, that is a generous offer ”

Hope rises in the man, thinking, Money, money will get me out. “Get me to a computer and I’ll wire you it all, just let me go…”

“So generous, but this Heart of Stone, that seems more interesting. ”

” Oh, don’t scream. You so generously offered a gift, so I’ll give you one. I’ll keep you awake and we’ll see it together. I promise, you won’t miss a thing.”

The man Screams as the scalpel parts the flesh of his chest, causing the blood bags forcing new blood in to replace the loss, to dance. But the persons hand is steady.

“See, we just pull back the skin and seperate the muscle… I’m so happy your voice gave out. Don’t worry, bones don’t have any nerve endings, I don’t think anyway. A few quick snaps and we’ll see the heart. ”

The sharp crack as the bolt cutters snap through each rib fills the warehouse.

” There now, the reveal, always so exciting. ” The person lifts the rib cage cutting away connective tissue.

” Oh… ” The person frowns, dejected.
Lifting the heart out of the man’s chest, showing it to him as the last light of consciousness fades. ” See, just flesh, Oh well… ” The person tosses the heart over their shoulder where it lands with a soggy plop. “Win some, lose some…”

The body sits in the middle of the warehouse, staring sightless into the harsh light, the strains of singing coming lightly on the air.

Softly singing, “I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts, fiddly dee…” fades into the darkness.

Curl haired dream woman

There is someone I’d like to be kissing right now. Holding right now. I want her to sit on my lap and snuggle up against me. To tell me about her day, while I massage her back. I want all the things I always want. The small intimacies and the large. I want misunderstandings and corrections. I want to stop describing what I want and hear and act on what you want.

I guess I’m just feeling lonely. But that doesn’t make my desire less true.

Even in my dreams 

I dreamed last night about a woman with dark hair. A bit curly. with dark eyes that smouldered. She had curves and valleys. She was looking for something and found me. I don’t believe that I was what she was looking for. We ended up in my bed. King size, cream colored silk sheets. With a 4 point suspension rig. Kissing her was like kissing a waterfall. Tentative, just the edge then power and passion that nearly wipes you away until you are standing in the middle, fierce joy and need, a fire burning. Our clothes disappeared and we stood with our imperfections baired. We fell on each other like starving wolves. Tongues and nails. Teeth and flesh. The first orgasm was a thing of abandon and need. Something that tore out of us to beat heavy on the warming air. We slowed long enough to hear her desire to fuck me with a strap on. Flash to me face down in the cooling sheet while she pounds into my ass with a fuschia dildo. It was glorious. Pain and pleasure and the thought of the beautiful woman wanting this. Flash to us spent on the bed.

I look quizzically at the suspension rig and she nods eagerly. She likes pain and being out of control, sometimes, then. I lock her in and suspend her. Black leather caressing and spreading her. Exposing her to me. Vulnerable. Safe. I take her. Edge her to orgasm then pull back. Until she’s writhing with need then push her over the edge. Again and again, until she is limp and spent. Her body shuddering in aftershocks. We are sweating and the air smells of sweat and other things. I get a towl. Soft. I clean her and myself off. She is falling asleep. I snuggle down next to her and sleep.

I wake some time later. She is gone. I rush out in a robe and find her walking home. I say, “Stay. You can stay. Have breakfast with me. Have lunch. Stay.”

She says, “I have to go. I’m looking for my daughter. I think I met you at the wrong time. We could have been something.”

I say, “Find her, then come back to me. You are safe here. Always.”

She just looks away.

I say, “There is no right moment, no perfect time. There is only this moment. This time.”

Then I woke up.

Step Twists

I dance in the mottled dapple of afternoons light
The soft crack of fallen leaves
Buried in the wet quiet of misting rain

Clothes clinging to me
Revealing unattractive form

But my dance continues, unabated
A paen to life’s minutes turning
A song sung in steps and ragged breathing

Things I want

Rasp
Shudder
Red blossom
Fades black
Green

Salt
Heat
Breathe held
Nerve fires
Languid

Words
Promises
Trust builds
Secrets kept
Hope

Decision

Should I love less
Now as winter creeps on
Than I had in spring
When full and fresh
Blossoming in the warm
Languid air

Should I love less
As the sky grows colder
The clouds heavier
As winter spreads her wings
Snow blankets the ground
Bitter breathe freezing

Should I love less
When dawn bursts forth
Consuming darkness in a
Wave of heat

Should I love less
When day concedes to night
And all before is laid low
By shadows

Should I love less
Should I dance less
Should I burn less
Should I be less

Or take up the mantle
And become
Both less and more
Dichotomous Angel
Brought message blazed out
Sanity and rage
Emptiness and Glut
Given form, given choice, given life

A fevere dream of hope.