An I could not endure heaven, I thrived in hell

Hells offer us safety that heavens do not
Life is a ongoing study in the loss of innocence and joy as one peace or another is cut away or slowly ripped out of us. In a hell we know the parameters. There will be horror, there will be pain, there will be fear. And very occasionally, there will be rest. And we will find the steel to endure in those seconds and minutes of peace.

In a heaven, having experienced both loss and being self aware, there is always the wait for the moment when it is ripped away. For the loss of love, joy, and safety.

It becomes that we choose to endure the hell. Because the thought of one more lost heaven destroys us more thoroughly than this endurance of durance vile.

What twists, what turns, what burns, what knows

I want you filled with me, consumed by my will, by your shame and pleasure. Knowing that I will take care of you in all the ways you dream about in your dark heart. Knowing that at times I will break you with kindness and love even as I bruise you and blood you as your deep desires twist and beg for. You are mine. Wake every day knowing that you are owned. That you are desired. That there is someone who is willing to burn and be burned in the pyre of you. Do not despair of my kindness. Of my deep well of love. Think not of only the soft and light that I speak of. That of my actions to care for you. Remember, that until you give explicit consent, the beast of me is shackled. But know, it waits, it sees you and we hunger.

Last chance to close my eyes

I have the easiest time connecting with people who read my writing. Because in my writing, with how I write, there is no place to hide. If you are afraid? Write it. Feeling something? Write it. Thinking about anything? Write it. It’s all there. Years of me. Thoughts and feelings. So people come to me past all my defenses and pretenses. And I think are probably surprised. Because all that writing is just me. Without exaggeration, but at a distance. In person it’s more. Without the intercessor of the screen or the page, how can it be helped but to be even more real?

The state of things

I don’t do well in the vacuum of knowledge. Not knowing why’s and reasons and thoughts eats away at me. “I’ll tell you later,” in all its variations is a cancer eating away at me in the narrow dark before the first rays of light. Or the variations of actions taken with no explanation as to why. Both cause their problems.

I know that I don’t express it. I know that I accept what information is given and keep going. But what else can I do? Demand more information than they are willing to give? Life isn’t so easy.

And I find myself in a predicament where my skills and experience is not easily seen. And I’m not the best when confronted with questions I haven’t thought about. Unless it’s asked by someone I trust, then it’s honesty and Intuition. So how do I sell my skills which are not evident by degrees or certification when I need a few minutes alone to formulate a response.

I don’t know what to do. I keep going forward with the gnawing feeling of impending failure and the thought that success might be just as bad. Looking for a way sideways or out but not finding it.

And still, those thoughts that more information would make me feel safe permeate and batter defenses which isolate me even more.

……..

Retreat into silence
Into noise, cacophony
So loud that one disappears
Into oblivion
Sinking deeply
Screaming silently
No one hears
“You’ve got this”
Head in hands
Who hears

Feigning normal while drinking seawater

Give me a minute to think
Just a minute to breathe
To plan
This thought that a minute to think will sort things
While my mind stays empty
Except for the algorithmic upward trend of my heartbeat
Feeling the fight or flight response filling my limbs
Washing in like a tide of seaweed
Choking off access
The walls falling into place
Locked behind the steel
While outside adrenaline rages and barely held in check
I wait out the anxiety
This rising blood tide instead settles to this new normal
Fighting to tread water
Glimpsing the seabed
And the shore
And knowing how to reach neither
Only the sure knowledge of of how to drown
And the sure knowledge
… It’s coming
And then, all hopes die

Torn Asunder 9.2

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The untended garden grows thorns and blood, fed on roses

Desire assaults
Each stir
Each turn
Seeing
That tumultuous ache
Seeing a picture
Hearing a song
Memories burst in full
Each key turned blooms full into images of her
Unable to get away
Torn between the dream of her
Pushed away desires
Needs creeping in
Hearts dwell in the fantasy of might be
Every unaware moment
Pulled awake
burn on silent tongues
Her voice echos
wish it were merely loneliness
Loneliness fades
She only grows stronger

Torn Asunder 9.1

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