Nightmares are also dreams Part 12

I stand. Dressed in black broadcloth dress shirt, black cotton pants and black suspenders with a red silk pocket square.

Morgan lays nude. Spread eagle, splayed in presentation with her arms and legs cuffed to the four corners. There is just enough slack that she can squirm. Just enough give that there is the hint that perhaps she could get free.

Reaching over, I grasp her chin and turn her head so that I can look her directly into her sea in storm eyes. Her body is tense but compliant waiting for what comes.

In full lecture mode, I begin, “So. Today I have many things planned for us. But before we begin, my Morrigan, let us establish now that your safe words are Red for stop. And this time it will mean full stop. No more of anything for the entire day. Yellow for slow or that a breather or break is neccesary. And Green for please more.

We have at some point done all of the things we will do today and all have been prior negotiated. There are none on your soft limits that we will be pushing today.

But, as we both know, that encompasses a broad range of potential activities.

If you are gagged or otherwise can’t speak then you will raise your hand if able or shake your head and I will remove the gag and wait for you to be able to speak to indicate red or yellow.

Given that you will be tied up for some or most of the day, hand gestures may not be available so this slow down and wait method will insure safety.

I have a full field kit that my teams use ready should you require it and I have a medical team on standby. While that may seem overkill, I will not risk losing you to shock. And given that I know you rarely call red, I do not want to risk falling into a Sadist headspace and risk you.

Nod your head to indicate compliance with this rule set.”

Her eyes sparking darkness and fire my Morrigan, my darkest night, nods her head.

“Excellent, then let us begin. For our first implement I have a electrified Wartburg pinwheel. Just a buzz to wake the nerves. An aperitif before the appetizer.”

Sipping heartsblood on the razors edge

When I feel the fear perching in the back of my chest
tongue lolling out of gargoyle visage
heart pumping adrenalin darts
I lean in
embracing the pain and fall.

This hot prickle constricting air in lungs
eyes bouncing looking for a way out
until I take that action that makes me feel like screaming and hiding and running all at the same time
then it tramps down to quivering smiles and anxious waiting
as ever
my fears are bound up in the uncertain possible of what someone else will say when I ask or say that thing that scares even me
waiting for the Yay or nay like a gladiator looking at the crowd
waiting to be butchered or to live for a few minutes more

Thoughts on desire and the turning Page

Someone told me today that now that he is grown up and can choose to buy things like candy or toys that would have made him happy as a child(engineering toys) he doesn’t feel excited about those things.

But, he was lying. Or telling himself a lie. Because he lit up when he described the toys. And he said that the thought was about not being able to go back with the same enthusiasm as that child and enjoy it anew.

And I said, “well that’s one opinion.” and left it at that.

I didn’t feel like getting into a lengthy discussion, especially from this guy who gets defensive when his ideas are questioned or folds completely.

But what I mean is this, We can choose to be passionate. To pour ourselves into the people and things we love. We can choose. We live in a time where we have enough wealth to choose to marry or be with someone or multiple someones for love, for passion. We can choose to be passionate about the things we love. (I’m well aware that this is not true everywhere but access to the Internet puts the mean income and lifestyle at a certain level, though there are cultural barriers I won’t go into)

We choose to love and sing and dance, we choose to color or play with building toys, we choose games, we choose books, we choose.

Desire is a burden. But it is also a choice. One that for myself, I choose to make, every time. Though it costs me. I consider it necessary.

Do the necessary thing, no matter how difficult or how much it may personally cost you.
One of my rules. I try to live up to it.

Thoughts on rules and love

A friend of mine asked if being ghosted was a betrayal. She was trying to put it in perspective. And, I think, to give me an out. However, it was not betrayal. It was just sad. And my rules aren’t meant to make my life easier. They are meant to force me down ways I would not normally travel. Put another way, I serve them. They do not serve me. My rules are harsh like navigating a path filled with thorns all sharp and pointed inward. Their purpose is to mold me into the things I want for myself. If the easy path, the easy answer didn’t always beckon.

I mention this to highlight one of my rules.

Wherever love is possible, it must be allowed to flourish.

This is a rule built on the back of my rule to not betray. And my rule that you serve something other than yourself. It’s a sub rule blending aspects of both primary rules.

Where I see love possible, I will open my heart to it. Even if it destroys me in this life.
If a relationship fades but love still exists and that relationship did not fail for breach of a primary rule and should I not be committed to another, I will open my heart and welcome my love back. We will try again.

I know it seems foolish. And possibly dangerous, but judicious application of the other rules make it far less so.

I believe love is worth the risk. Worth the cost.

My rules enforce that belief.
I say rules but mean code. A person needs a code. A ruleset that can be lived by a mortal and which serves to elevate them.

Just some thoughts on the subject

I’m still broken, just in different ways

Is it bad that I don’t expect those that I love to love me back? That the mere thought, “who could love the monster I am” can bring me to tears instantly? Because of all the beautiful things I believe, it is this one dark seed that sits in my heart. This is the last piece of heartache I work on. I say this now because it scares me to say it. How can this part of me, this broken self be revealed and still be worth loving. He writes through the tears. But it’s a rule. If I betray my own rules, how can I be trusted to not do so again.


Last twitch

There a flower grows
The yellow heat pours down
From a blue sky, soft rain patters staccato against leaves
The soft loam, smelling clean. Fresh earth and the crisp green of new growth
Fronds reaching out to the blue. Sun pounding down they drink their fill
Dew soaked grass, orange gold sunset and the failing light
The first blush of the darkness found amidst deepening shadows
Soft hushed, sounds quiet, the garden cools in the night air
The stars shine. While across the sky meteors fall like tears
The triumphant moon, full and ripe, arcs ascendant in a loving sky


This is the poem I wrote as my last relationship was ending. I wrote a each line in remembrance, over a period of 20 days, as I do not walk away. But It was over. Eventually, when other romance looms heavy, even I must shutter the past. As I did today. Not everything beautiful lasts forever. But sometimes that ending marks the beginning of something better.

Specific rules

I follow a particular ruleset that both broadly and specifically defines my actions. I’ve mentioned this before so I won’t get into the basics here, you can view them by searching this tag “rules” on the blog. I want to speak to a rule that dictates my behavior at the end of or the ending of a relationship. It is this; I don’t walk away. If I am not betrayed, I don’t walk away. So if whomever I’m with ghosts out, it leaves me in a quandry. I can neither walk away or talk with them about the relationship. It gets worse if I’ve actually stated that I will not walk away from them. In that case I am bound by my word to maintain the garden, as it were, awaiting their return. So there is no closure, and I still hope (because I’m a fool) but ultimately they are not coming back. But I still wait. And I wait until I’m in a relationship with someone else, at which point I must break off lest I betray my new paramour. It’s complicated but it’s what I’m thinking about.


don’t want a friendship
want the flame
always step forward
never step back
always move to
never step away
Only built bridges and yet they all burn
life marked and marred
by the fires we yearned
And one fateful meeting
starts drifting away
Stand on the shore
building bridges
from ash