Nightmares are also dreams Part 39-Sara

“I just thought of a third option,” Pel says, his eyes
swimming in darkness.

I see in Pel a deep hurt. Like a stab wound so sharp you don’t realize its killing you until its too late.

I’m his. His slave. His. And yet, always he stops. Always, just short of his full desires. And I know that I will always want to go deeper than he is comfortable with. He’ll pass it off as protection. As if this scenario isn’t something we have worked out and so is off the table. I suspect he’s been watching the footage they took off the Circle. And that there is a dark part of him that desires what they did. And really, everything they do is within scope. It’s the human trafficking, nonconsent, and the permanent breaking of the people that is at issue. Not the activities, not really. But he sees them as monsters. And since he desires what they do, he seems himself as monstrous. And he is anything but that.

My only limit I have for him is that he is comfortable with what we do. So, I’ll let this slide for tonight. But…I would have taken those three men. Would have put on a show and begged and pleaded. Would have thrown myself completely into it. It’s something I fantasize about. Something I know Pel thinks about. Something we both wanted. But here we are. Back in safety with only one other partner and one which is mostly for Pel. It’s incredibly frustrating and completely Pel. For every four steps deeper we go, there is always this moment where he walks us three steps back. He’s so deep in his own head that he fakes himself out. That deep thinking also leads to some epic sessions and surprises. Like the raven scar he created for our anniversary. Like vetting Tara and surprising me with her inclusion at work.

After this, we’ll need to have a talk. Not about what he can do, but about how disappointed I was that he chose just one. Plant the idea that it will be acceptable for more. And reinforce the idea that he can’t break me. That I’m already his. Body, mind, and soul. And we’ll dance forward again, and we’ll get closer to the edge that I know he wants.

I hip sway over to Pel and reach out. At the last minute, I grab our new friend and push Pel away. I growl, “Me first.” Then shove my hand down the mans pants and grab his cock.

I know I need to push Pel to get what I need tonight. All so that when I am hurting with the delicious ache of his righteous wrath, and he is beginning to feel guilty, I can act contritely. And he will know that he did right. And maybe that he could have pushed much further.

Observe, act, check, repeat

When I meet and interact with someone I automatically am taking in their mannerisms. I listen to what they say, how they say it, and the bits of truth they give about themselves in normal conversations which are small and without seeming significance. What I’m consciously and subconsciously doing is building a picture of who the person is. Not just on what they say but what they do, how they move with and through the world.

That’s all ongoing. So when I ask someone out, while I may not know the specifics about the person, I do know them. So it will then seem as if I fall in love quickly. Like “I don’t even know you”, but really I knew enough that I would risk my heart.

I also think that monogamistic thinking plays a role here. In monogamistic thinking, if someone loves you then they are placing you at the pinnacle of their heart with no room for anything else. That’s a scary focal point to be at.

But here’s the thing. I’m poly. And while I may not be with multiple partners being poly is more than a lifestyle choice, at least for me. Like being pansexual, it is a orientation. My brain and thought processes function differently. When I love, yes I love completely, but there is no pinnacle. You are in my heart, surrounded by my love, and while I can be laser focused, it works better when my focus is diffuse.

I suppose what I’m saying is that my thought processes follow patterns which may seem familiar. Ones which may remind you of some past experience. And I won’t say that the experience is wrong, but I will say that when dealing with individuals and not trends, it is better to be aware both of internal bias and the knowledge that false positives will be present.

Flares burn as brightly as fireworks

There comes a point where you realize that the person you want most in your life, won’t be. Much as you may click and even keep in touch, that extra few steps from maybe to yes are just never going to happen. For me that means that I accept what is. If we are friends then I’m all in on the friendship. If we are acquaintances then I imagine we will fade until we are just memories to each other and the occasional birthday wish on social media.

It’s tough realizing the person who was your person will never be the one you hold safe in your arms. Times passing and it seems like you have forever until you wake up and see what behind is more than what’s ahead. Maybe then, you settle. I can’t know. I instead wait. And dream. And write.

I’ll stop hoping but never stop planning. Stop dreaming but never stop the dream. When you glimpse each others hearts, it already too late to back out. Even if you will never be.

Nightmares are also dreams Part 25

Tara is padding around, fox ears on her head and fox tail sprouting from her butt plug. She is snuffling and sticking her nose into things and generally having a good time. Her small smile says that she loves the game and wants to play.

Sara is staring in unconscious horror at the elaborate off-white dress. One of those flouncy meringue wedding dresses that shops try to sell to the happy and unsuspecting. She looks at me as if I’d lost my mind. I smile back angelically. Fallen angels count, right?

“You can’t be serious,” she states. Her voice empty with shock. Ah, horrible dress therapy, why did I never think of this before?

“Do you not like it? I had it special ordered just for you. I have it on good authority that your father’s second wife wore the exact same dress.”

“His SECOND wife?! You mean the tramp he left my mother for,” her voice rising in incredulity and anger.

“It could have been his third. To be honest, I’ve lost count. I’m sure it’s in a file somewhere. Would you like me to check,” I reply calmly.

Letting out a low groan, Sara turns to me and whines, “Why are you doing this?”

I look at her for a beat. Letting the silence stretch. Then reply, “Your parents deserve to know that you are happy and married. Just like you wanted. If you are wondering why that photo will include Tara nude and being a little fox…then ask yourself this: would you ask her and me to hide who we are? Is that who you want to be be?”

She looks at me and sees the disappointment lurking, waiting for her answer.

I know that she loves us and accepts us. But to expose these kinds of things to her parents is a completely different proposition.

She knows this is a punishment. She knows that I will not harm her. But still, she’s human. And exposure of secrets is one of the hardest things we do. Especially to people whose image of us is in contrast to the truth.

She turns away, eyes cast down. Almost inaudible, I hear her say, “Ok.”

Then she whips back around to me glaring fiercely and proclaims “But I won’t be doing this in that monstrosity. I have my own clothes and I will pick something I deem appropriate.”

I smile, wryly, and say, “Well, it is your day. You have 30 minutes to find a dress and get into it. The makeup artist will be done with us by then.”

I watch the triumph fade to panic then into something like horror. What am planning flies across her face?! Then she’s off like a shot into her closet.

I turn away and go to the hall closet where my tux is kept.

Moments later I hear a shriek and a cry of “Don’t lick that!” coming from Sara’s direction. Then out pranced Tara looking impish and smug.

This is going to be fun.

Disjointed connections in a lonely mind

You could be outside my door, dropping all kinds of hints but I’ll never grasp them
We could be flirting
Back and forth
Right on the verge of explicit
And still
I’ll doubt your interest

I think the reason I throw myself so hard into love is because I know that life doesn’t last
And it makes people who date me rethink being with me
In some cases, it makes them go back to the safety of what they know.
In others, it makes them realize that intense love isn’t what they want
And in others…I don’t know
They just leave without explanation

So I don’t see because I doubt
And they don’t stay because of my hearts certainty

I’ll admit to fear
And not knowing
And I wish I was more comfortable with new

I may be clumsy at the beginning
But stay
Stay
I promise
My love is not a cage

Not all branches that blossom bear fruit

I was thinking that the thing I miss most about K was that when I was with her, I slept. Every night, I slept as soon as my head hit the pillow to the time I had to wake. And wake I did. Before the time of my alarm. Which I stopped setting. Because waking up meant seeing her. She factored hugely into whether I’d call in sick or take a vacation day. Hint: I mostly did neither unless I was on death’s door.
And yes, the sleep thing is the largest piece. The one with the most impact on my day to day well being.

But…
It’s not what I miss most. Not really. Not sleeping is a lifestyle I am well acquainted with. No. What I miss is the casual flirting we engaged in that was anything but casual. The smiles and knowing looks. Her laugh.
Her, basically, all of her.

And it can’t be the same. After. I wish it could be. It might be. I don’t know. I just know that casual flirting is never really casual with me, so the road back to that…I don’t know how to chart that course.

It wasn’t an acrimonious ending, so it’s not like I’m trying for something she doesn’t want. Casually flirty is ok. I checked how she wanted to proceed. Because of course I did(a good friend of mine would say it’s the Dominant in me. That I have to explain, check, then explain again. My friends right, in that it’s my nature.(double explain, lol))

My heads not in a poetry place right now. And that’s ok. Lots of thinking to do. And wondering about what was and what might be? Well, I’d say they are right in my wheelhouse.

Tapped out juggernaut

wish I could turn off my brain
turn it off and just be happy
turn it off and just remember
turn it off and just be

instead I dull it
break it
sleep away my time
passing away
as if time wasn’t all that I owned
and these thoughts that just won’t shut off

wish I didn’t read a thousand interpretations in a silence
in a smile
in a phrase

learned paranoia becomes just paranoid
taught myself to see all the angles
now I see right angles in circles
and I just want it to stop

and when I’m better
and when your there
I feel like I’m normal
like I got it mostly handled
and who are those people who feel like this
every day

who don’t see a cliff and for just a quarter of a second think about jumping
who don’t lose relationships because they second guess themselves until their person wonders why they aren’t second guessing too
who don’t work themselves into such stress that they lose sleep

who don’t find themselves awake at four am, yearning

But that’s not gonna be me
I’m the broken brain and broken heart
But not about you
just some weeks are harder than others
and I don’t know how to say it’ll be ok while I’m being not ok and just want to be held
but that can’t happen cause I’m supposed to be the strong one
the dominant
can’t show weakness though I’m riddled with holes
holes papered over but still bleeding
Never fully healed
but sometimes fully functioning

hard to know when to start talking
and never have I known when to stop

Eye plucked out and hung

Don’t want to feel like I need to apologize for falling in love
Too soon? What is that? Too soon for who? Sure I don’t know everything about her, so what? Learning about someone is a relationship. Seeing them as they grow and change and embracing those changes. That’s a relationship. People tell me that I say it too soon, that I should live in the moment. Where else is there to live? The moment realized is a byproduct of future planning but failure to plan is failure to realize. Love is always a Work in progress. That pure crystalline love that never waivers or changes is the fairytale and maybe that’s the standard people hold to and that’s why we are so unhappy.

When I say I love you it’s no perfection. No crystalline structure of atoms waiting for the right forces to shatter it. It is the messy growing complex thing that becomes as things change and accommodates new structures to become a whole. Not unwavering or unyielding but instead resilient and capable of change.

Through a series of missteps I grew used to apologizing for what I feel.

I don’t want that. I want someone who sees me and likes that I’m a poetical kind romantic who will spank you and play in dark and light ways all while abiding in a column of love. And sees that I go through darkness too, and knows that I’m there despite my challenges.

Even now I feel like I have to apologize for being too much. I want someone who sees my too much and knows it for enough.

Ramblings of a writer

I woke as Anthony and went to sleep as Pelgris. And though seemingly innocuous, I can’t help but think I lost in the process.

Some know my First name because it’s on my short story collection on Amazon. Some because I’ve shared it privately.

Pelgris is a public persona and very much a part of me. But it’s not everything. I hold pieces of myself back that only people who have private contact with me will see. Maybe that’s disingenuous, but I hope not.

But I woke with a hello Anthony in my inbox and went to sleep with a goodnight Pelgris. And it felt like a goodbye.

I’m probably overreacting. But emotions care little for rationality.

In a way, I dislike that my personal life is published. But this is my process and I can’t let something go until it diffuses out.

I hope they see it as I intend it. I am not sharing my feelings directly because my obsession with words should not cause you to rethink how you feel or interact with me.

And frankly, this is what I am. I write. Sometimes poetry, sometimes not, but I write. And to confine myself to public experience is to quash the internal sense that connects us.

Sounds like a excuse for incorrect behavior. I guess I can only say that I try very hard to disguise the who’s from the general public and only those in it will know from context.

And we can always talk, privately.

This went on longer than I thought. The first part is the important bit, the emotional bit. The rest is process. Anthony things rather than than Pelgris things.