Author: Pelgris

Why 1

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Prologue

Don’t let my facade fool you.
This jovial face, friendly enough if dour, is but another in a series of masks that I wear.

There are other darker aspects I may call up, pieces I have discarded but not forgotten.

It is not the rage you need fear but the cold. When my hands shake with it, when all else is still then you may fear, if not for your life then for your soul.

I will destroy all that you hold dear and when you stand in the ashes your
life has become wondering where it all went wrong, I will take you apart
piece by piece, until all you know is pain.

Not a subtle balance. Not half of what I could do if I reached for darker masks still. But I find I am no longer as cruel as I once was.

chapter 1
There is a cadence to the world. Its slow and pulsing. Sometimes I can
almost feel it around me. But not tonight. Tonight there is the body of the missing girl I was tracking splayed out before me like a butchered hog. Her amber hair and sparkly dress soaking in a pool of her own blood. She’s died for nothing. Run to ground like an animal, cornered and afraid. Maybe the next one will be different, maybe I’ll get notified in Time. Maybe not. Gods are fickle that way.

My name is Dominic Dostra and I’m a priest. No particular denomination, most of my gods no longer have followers. They mostly want to be left alone. Unfortunately, most people aren’t that bright.

Clarification

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If I say you are beautiful or intelligent, if I say you are amazing or sexy, I’m saying it to give voice to something in me that demands that I acknowledge what it’s seen in you.

Let’s talk about beauty.

Beauty, to me, refers to the totality. All of you, your past, your emotions, your joy. The way you laugh or tuck your hair behind your ear. The unshed tears in your eyes. The conscious effort and the unconscious gesture. Everything that makes you, you.

That is what I find beautiful. And when I tell someone they are beautiful, that is what I mean. I’m not validating you, only you can do that. I’m saying “I see you, and to me, your presence in my life, my world makes it better.”

I hope that clarifies things.

Allure of the new

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The allure of the new is a trap for the naive. I’ve been burned too many times by the headlong rush. By the physical emotions. It is why my rule is in place. Why I’ve tied the rule to my word. The rule, of course, is to not have sex until I am in love with the other person. I know how that makes me seem. But rather than puritanical fervor or mistaken idealism, it stems from a place of too much mistaking of physical intimacy for real intimacy. And sometimes I’ll meet someone and wish for a loophole or to break my word. But there isn’t one and me off the leash of honor isn’t good for anyone.

So I don’t do casual or friends with benefits. It really should come as no surprise. Even the erotic story I just finished up, turns out to be between a couple living together and, as should be obvious, very much in love.

So that’s me. An old romantic. Oh, and to all the girls in high school who I tried to ask out through romance, through poetry. I hope you experienced only what you thought. That all men are romantics. Because, in mine, they mostly aren’t. I think the more accurate statement would be that most people aren’t.

Recipe

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balancing
perched on the ledge
one wrong word from failure;
the exhilaration of it
success is a lie you tell yourself, but this moment
heart racing

you are alive
so you keep going knowing that the only likely result is heartache
the crushing blow of too far
the knowledge that its a game
the knowledge that your heart hasn’t caught up to your brain
your brain is light and funny and charming
but your heart is full of hope
its a recipe for disaster

I’ll take 2

Ballroom thoughts

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This concludes this installment of Ballroom.  I suppose I should name these characters.  If you felt I gave short shrift to the whipping scene, then I can only offer this,  you are right.  I have never found whipping someone to be compelling. Being whipped on the other hand has some appeal.  But for my extreme edge play, I prefer flechettes.  Something about the blade parting skin is very compelling.  I plotted out the scenes and knew it would culminate in the whipping but by the end I now longer desired to portray it.  So instead we see safety and domesticity brought to the forefront.  I think adequately showing that play is only a facet of these characters relationship.  As well as how much the top truly cares for his sub.  Comments welcome.

End of poetry month

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So it ends.  Poetry month, one poem a day plus normal Monday-Wednesday-Friday posts.  It was difficult, didn’t think I’d make it.  Some of those poems posted late but always on the day.  It’s the hardest writing exercise I’ve done in a long time but worth it.  I had to stretch my ability some.  All to the good.  Hope my readers enjoyed it.  I’m going back to the standard post schedule.  Thanks for reading.  I truly appreciate all the people following the blog.  It makes it so much easier to dedicate time when it’s for someone.

Subconscious churning

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I just had the realization that there are two more people in this world that I love. That I would do nearly anything for. This comes as a cascade really. One which reveals what I conceived as a bare handful turns into many more. Which isn’t to say that I am loved. In all likelihood, I’m not. I seem too distant, too different to fall into that category. Outside of immediate family and even then that’s questionable in cases.

I don’t even talk with most of them all that often. But I would remake the world if they needed it. It’s not the highest love I can feel but I’m not romantically involved with any of them.

For someone who has felt so alone for so long it is interesting.

Now if I could convince the few in whose presence I feel like I’m home, then I would be ecstatic. But I think too much cultural baggage stands in the way of even the attempt.

Traveling

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Traveling through skin
A foreign body trapped
By this meat and sinew
This bone
Struggling to get out
This screamed impression into flesh
Stretched against the borders
Cut me out
Cut me free
Prison breaking down but never far enough to matter

Bumbling through

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Is it weird that when I get put off, not rejected or when my offer is straight declined, my tension ratchets up. I try again or say no problem, let’s reschedule. And each time I either don’t take the hint, or hold the belief that everything is above board.

That belief that everyone is being honest is oddly disjointed to how I normally view the world. My normal world view is that people are fundamentaly selfish and look to their own interests first.

But when I’m interested in someone romantically, I put that aside. I seem to then hold the belief that all parties are working towards the same goal of emotional fulfilment.

Which seems like naivety even to me. But that knowledge doesn’t change how I act. Ever hopeful, naive. I’m made more cautious, only because my style is to be all in from the beginning, and that seems to be scary to people. I would say better to be all in and find out that there is nothing there than to have a relationship starve for its lack.

But from experience I’d say most dip their toe in, get used to that, then more until they are fully immersed. Now being all in doesn’t mean I’m in love. It means that I commit to the relationship. Which seems foreign to the people I date. If you’ve read this blog then you know that I lost someone. And that it’s taken a long time to heal, even to this point.

I mention this because I feel like someone disjointed from the way the world works now. I keep trying to apply what I knew, what worked before and coming up empty.

Is it so scary to want to spend time, to communicate on the regular? Or am I overthinking this? Or misreading the level of interest from my counterparts?

Keep it light, keep it easy seems to be the advice. That is so foreign to me. I’m more intense, like dark chocolate I’m just fumbling about here. Hopefully it’s an interesting read at least.