A dick, a pussy, an ass, a mouth
To me these are all vanilla
Been there done that
If that is all you want, there better be an emotive component because otherwise what’s the point
But if you want to be owned, trained
Then I don’t need the emotive crutch
The process, the new, the interplay is enough
Tell me your dirtiest, darkest desires
I’ll make them come true
You have other lovers?
That’s nice, I like to watch, participate
with them, with you
switch me round, pain and pleasure
drink me, drown me
I’m good for 3 or more, then spent, fingers, toys and mouth
quiver and cum, I want your pleasure writ loud in animalistic sounds
whimper, tied up, ball gag, breathe play, the lash, the flog, the paddle
flechettes if you go to the edge
don’t believe that my ongoing quest for emotional relationships preclude the physical
I’ve immersed myself, lost myself in rut
I like going down so much that I do daily tongue exercises to build endurance
I’m a fat guy, losing the weight but still I can see why you’d go for the skinny guy,
But 3 things (always at least 3), I am an accomplished and practiced lover, many consider me to be attractive despite the fat, and I get off on you getting off. and if you are into kink or BDSM, we have plenty to talk about or explore.
I just need you to ask, to be interested. Unless we are dating, I require a smack to the face to show consent, open palm and smile if you like rough, we’ll discuss how far you want to go
Come on, come out
I’m feeling too emotional right now and need to lose myself in skin and pleasure
Thoughts
Thoughts on Death
Death walks beside us all. Death is our lover. Our mistress. Our brother. Our hope.
When all the pain of life weighs heavy on our decaying form, death lifts us from the pain. Death is a gift.
Death’s finality makes the minutes of life that much sweeter. The knowledge that this ends is both bittersweet and hopeful.
Death is the final refuge, the last doorway we take. And whatever your beliefs are, the last step in this life to the unknown beyond.
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The world ends and begins again
I must come to the conclusion that I am the only constant in my tales of woe. I twist and change month by month but will that ever be enough? I stretch.
My thoughts and beliefs change. But am I judged by them and not my actions? Or are past actions, told and retold. A spectre haunting my future as surely as it stalks my present. Should I stop acting from the heart? Much as doing so would pain me, is it the correct action? Should I be less open, less honest?
I feel like I’ve been traveling this road awhile and each time find myself back at these same crossroads. Marked by discarded bits of myself. Left mouldering on this lonely moon drenched road. Should I pick up one of those pieces? Become what I was and vowed to never be again. Or discard another layer and step forth again?
I wait and dither, hoping I’ll see something that will make the choice evident. Or failing that someone will show me a new path. But I’ve taken so many, maybe the same path can be made new by traveling it with someone? But who would that person be?
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Rain
I’d like to share nights listening to the rain pounding down
I’d like to share soft mornings
Slowly waking beside you
I’ve lost and I’ve found
Why does no one stay?
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I should put this as my dating profile
I’m oblivious to small talk. To flirtation that is other than for fun only. Unless I’m the one to initiate, in which case I’m like the Eye of Sauron. All baleful and single minded, but still unable to pick up on clues unless I’m hit over the head with it. Kissing me is the best indicator of your interest.
What Neil Gaiman says is true of authors of all stripes. We are so far inside our own heads you really need to hit us to get our attention. For most that would be figurative, but I have strong masochistic tendencies so a kiss with you using your nails to drive the point home and you’ll have my attention. *He said with a feral grin*
Or you could just tell me point blank you’re interested. And what level that interest is. But if you think your throwing blatant signals, oh I’ll see them, but I’m likely to completely misinterpret them. As anyone who reads my thoughts here can attest to.
All gender identities are welcome. If you are into goth, emotional, poetical, romantical, logical, magical cismales. Then drop me a line. I guarantee I will over analyze whatever is said unless you tell me what you mean, want, and don’t want. *sardonic lopsided smile*
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Delusional, maybe a bit stupid
I’m delusional. Thinking that if I can just wait long enough, hold on long enough, you’ll somehow be waiting on the other side of your personal maelstrom. Waiting, looking for me. I don’t know if I can do that. If there were some indication that you wanted me, just not right now, while your traversing the jungle of your mind. I’d probably, look for you. I’d wait. Because right now I can’t stop looking for your smile or a response I know will never come. I’m delusional, not stupid.
I worry when you are not there, hoping you are alright, hoping you feel better, hoping you stay. Even if its not with me. Just stay. This world is worth the time. Whatever rest or oblivion you think is coming, can wait. This time, this place, these people around you, all unique in the universe. Take advantage, find joy, find something that lasts for more than a few hours.
Pleasure is great. Everyone knows I’m an advocate for pleasures dark and light and everywhere in between. But it doesn’t last, you always need more. Find the small moments of joy. The beauty you can carry with you. You’ve made it clear you don’t want me on that journey with you. Which means I’m sad, bleak, bereft but I hope you can find the path to joy without me. I love you enough to watch you walk away. I just want what you are walking to to be everything I would have helped you achieve, every experience and idea I could offer, and whatever the other things I don’t have that you are looking for.
I want you to feel the opposite of what I feel now, eyes blurred with tears. I want that for you. You deserve that joy. Seek it.
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Fluid thoughts at One AM
My life feels like it’s one of tragedy but not one where these things happen to me. Instead, they happen to those around me. I’m the survivor in the horror movie, watching, despite my efforts as my friends and lovers are murdered. I know that is not what actually happened. That they each died as a product of a series of choices. But knowing and feeling are different. I miss them. Want to hold them one more time, but know that I can’t.
So I come with this legacy. What is, oh so endearingly, called baggage. Which is apparently bad? People want, what, a blank slate? My past makes me mindful. It makes me aware of the fleeting nature of people in this world. If I fall in love too fast, it’s because because I know how quickly it can all come apart. If I hold you a little too close or worry a bit too much, or want to be with you more often it’s because I know that life is by its nature ephemeral. That it’s fleeting, hurtling past us. Seconds and hours spent doing things we don’t love for people we don’t respect surrounded by people we don’t know or maybe just don’t like.
We are all fighting the entropy of existence. But that’s too big, too difficult. So we hide in stories not our own. We escape from our world and into ones constructed for us. We seek out adventure. Which I hate. Adventure is what happens when plans go awry. Which is fine and be prepared for it but don’t seek it out. “I just want some adventure.” Really, you want to not know what is coming, you want stark terror and fight or flight to be a real in your face thing? No, what you want is excitement. You want to feel the new, you want to feel like everything is possible, that the night isn’t going to end. That tomorrow and work, taking out the trash, cleaning the bathroom, and all those small actions that make up life are not coming.
I understand, I do. But why not plan for tomorrow but experience today. Don’t let the seconds slip by. Don’t leave the things you want to say unsaid. If you feel like saying something say it.
As the years pass, I regret the things I didn’t do. Some large, some small. Not going with Sara. Not helping that person crying, desolate in a sea of strangers. Not telling the person who sat two rows in front of me, way at the back of Symphony hall listening to Mozart that they were the most heart stoppingly beautiful person. She had red hair and was wearing what looked like a sun dress. The actions we take are the ones that we generally remember. I remember those, but it’s the ones I don’t take, the ones whose futures are lost to me that I regret.
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How not to be friends only
Why do men keep falling in love with you. Keep seeing more in the relationship than you do? Because you are intimate, you share your thoughts and ideas with them. Your pains. When they compliment you, you are flattered and with no sign that is unwanted, they take a step forward. They share things with you, things they don’t share with others and are rewarded with more of your attention. They ask you out, one on one, and you go, and they can feel the tension (if they are like me). They’ve said yeah, friends. I can do that but this friendship feels more intimate than their last three romantic relationships. And it develops from nothing to talking via text about odd things. Then sex talk comes up, and you don’t demure, which on its own is fine but coming with the intimacy it is confusing. Plus there is something about you that invokes my need to protect those that are mine. I start referring to you as mine coupled to a pet name, and I like it but for a friendship it’s too far. So I test the waters, I ask you if it’s too much. But you say you like it. So I keep using it. And each time I say it, and each time you smile when I do, I fall a little further. I, at least, talk about holding you. Sleeping, just sleeping and the feel of our warmth and comfort. Which say sounds nice. You are also intelligent and adorable, on top of all this. All together, we feel singled out like we are a part of your world.
Eventually, all the talk isn’t enough. Inevitably, I and others, want more. And we know that you are having sex, because you’ve told us. And told us details. So we know and given how emotionally intimate we are with you, want to take it further. Into a full blown romantic relationship. At which point, you blast them and me out of the water. You were just being friends, but friends in a way that no one is friends like. Not that quickly, not that intimate. That is why we not only fall in love with you but want a physical relationship. And for me I feel that your lovers are falling down on the job. And I know I could do so much better by you.
So that’s why this always happens, as you put it. You say friends but act much more intimately than mere friendship. You say friends but when they take romantic steps, you indicate that they should keep doing it. It is inevitable that they would want more of you.
So, if you want to be friends with someone. And only friends. This would work for me. Say this, “I don’t want a physical relationship with you. I don’t want sex of any kind. And while I like compliments and am candid about my life, that in no way indicates a desire for anything beyond buddies. If it seems I’m giving you signals, I’m not.” And of course, when I check in, as I did several times because I was seemingly getting those signals, you must shut me down there as well. I won’t be mad. Instead relieved to know where I stand.
So a little clarification: I only fell so hard because of the come aheads I was given. I checked and rechecked in with her. I would never want to even edge into non-consent territory. I was pretty damn sure that we had something by the time I said something to that effect. 3 months, of inching closer and checking in; maybe someone else wouldn’t have been as destroyed as I am/was, maybe someone else would have seen the game. I didn’t and while she was correct that I was the only one in love with the follow on with the lamentation that this always happens to her, I think there is a conclusion that can be drawn that something she is doing is causing it. I think it’s the intimacy and the closeness, followed up by the come ahead actions that were allowed? I mean would you let someone continuously, affectionately call you My Little Winter Storm in french and not think that they wanted a romantic relationship with you?
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Fear is but the first step
To not take chances from fear is to betray yourself. It is not bravery one must act with. Instead one must examine ones fears. Does this action make you afraid? If so does the fear serve its intended purpose and keep you from harming yourself or others? If so then it behooves you to examine the desire to find out the why’s of it. If the fear does not serve you then you must take the action. There will be consequences, there will be fallout. Prepare your mind for that potentiality. Then let it go. Embrace the action as one of beauty. Then step forward.
We live lives sheltered in our fear. Comfortable, safe lives. But ask instead why you live. If you have the life you want, then ignore me. I am joyful in your finding and keeping of it. But if you have not, then ask yourself why not? You are the only constant. The tools available to you are embodied in the choices you make. Accept that the world is chaos. Accept that the only thing you have control over are your choices.
Embrace fear. Embrace consequence. Embrace choice.
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Self metaphor
Think of me like a blade. Functional, sharp. In romance, I am no less the blade. Merely sheathed. In true friendship, the blade is bare but held horizontal to my body. Held loosely but ready. Each degree down the ladder changes the orientation of the blade and grip of same. Until, against enemies, the blade is unseen. Unnoticed until it slips under the ribcage.
This is how I think of myself. It is a useful metaphor. It keeps me mindful of the things I am capable of. That if I falter, I can do unwitting damage. That despite how I may seem or project, that is what I am. Who I am. As I always say, I am the weapon, every thing else is just a tool.
I am a blade bared.
Pelgris 