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Sickeningly sweet and twisting.

Why do we act the way we do?

Winding tightly around your skin.

What drives us to do the things we do?

Your breath catches on your cracked lips.

Why are we so scared to make an action?

You can feel the heat flush over every inch.

Why are we so scared of ourselves?

Your heart is pounding in your ears.

Is it any less real if you ignore it?

A dull light flicks on in the corners of your mind.

You cannot hide from who you are.

Your head is bowed before the sink.

The more you run, the stronger it gets.

You try to get it under control.

This is who you really are.

Acid rising in your throat.

Take a breath and let it in.

Hellfire

Beatrice, O heavenly guide!

Lead me to my damnation,

I’ll happily follow you through the woods if it meant one last chance to sink my teeth into your flesh, to coat your nipple with my saliva,

To hear the fabric tear and cut you loose.

O Beatrice, what I would give

to baptise you come the morning,

To be rid of the agony of want,

To drown you in the waves of my ignorance.

Beatrice, O heavenly guide!

I am lost without your light

Join me in darkness

Please forgive me.

Punishment: Free Form Poetry

For each day she’s too busy to message him,

She dresses down,

Lays on her stomach,

Strikes herself with the paddle

They chose together.

She falls asleep,

The paddle still in hand,

Resting by her side.

Flesh marked raw

Pain singing

Stinging

Across her claimed ass

It’s been five days since.

And she hopes

Time will find her

So her body can heal again.

Together

I’m a Dominant. I’m a Master, a Daddy and a primal.

I expect speech protocols to be followed, gestures to be undertaken and rules to be remembered.

I’ll lead you when you need it, I’ll guide you when you’re lost and I’ll nurture you when you fall.

I’ll pull your hair and pinch your tits and slap your ass and call you names.

I’ll come on your tits and spit in your face and claw your body till the marks on your body show like you’re my calling card.

I’ll lease you and collar you and lead you out in the afternoons for walks.

I’ll deprive you of sight and sound and release till you’re a quivering, sobbing mess without a semblance of humanity.

But I’ll let you teach me. I’ll let you take care of me when the anxiety is so bad I feel like I’m losing my mind.

I’ll listen to your advice and listen to your needs.

I’ll put your desires ahead of mine because your smile and your happiness satisfies me more than any sexual act.

I won’t flinch when you step up to take care of me, I won’t speak over you when you need to tell me something.

I will fall to my knees and press my head between your breasts when I’m feeling vulnerable and sad and lonely and out of whack with the world around me.

I’ll let you put your arm around me when we rest in bed, because I need that more then you realise.

Longing: A Freeform Something

She felt a longing.

She felt a longing she couldn’t describe.

Could anyone understand her?

Could anyone standing It?

Whenever she’d open her mouth,

To speak about what it meant

To her

To be free

To be wild

To feel the grass weaving on the inside of her thigh and realise it would itch her later and to not care, no not at all.

How do you communicate that to someone?

How do you speak?

How do you write?

What words do you use?

A house isn’t a home until you make it a home but what if a home isn’t her home?

What if the forest is her home?

What if the long blades of grass nestled her at back, and the long blades reaching out to glide across every inch of her body, what if that was her home?

There, surrounded by the grass, cared for by the Earth.

How do you even tell someone that?

How can you show someone that?

Is she the only one out there to be caressed by the Earth, to feel the grass across her bare body?

How can she talk of nudity, wide eyed manic pixie girl that she seems, without catching a label or too?

Would anyone ever understand that stab of frustration, pulsating, slithering through her body, at the sheer thought of wearing clothes?

Do people think, when they shop, of how they’d like to tear off every piece of clothing because it burns?

Do they look at the faceless crowd and see something in there, maybe wonder, if there is another like them?

She thought of all this and more,

Lying in the field,

nude body protected by grass,

An organic force field just for her

And felt that longing.

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My little doll,

Together we will celebrate life

The past and present

The good and the bad

And you will sit by my feet

In your natural state 

Open to the universe

Connected with souls

Bare 

You are my feast 

My own celebration 

And together we 

Will pay our respects 

To the wonder of life.

______________________




Out of my love for and fascination for this beautiful Mexican tradition, I thought I would write a piece that hopefully is as sweet as it is sexual. For it is a celebration of life, of sexuality as well, but predominately life itself. Past, present and future. 



I won’t harp on any further about a poem that may or may not be any good. But I just wanted to pay my respects in an unique way to the holiday. 

Through the space of darkest dreams

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I wonder
Through time and space
Are your lips, so sweetly sealed,
kissed with the same gold
that your frame is blessed with?

I wonder
As I so greedily feast upon the fruit,
Do you, as sun and sound fades,
sense the animal within me?

I wonder
Through the space of darkest dreams obtained,
Is the memory in the sequence,
Has the appetite touched you,
Have you tasted its sweetness?

And I wonder,
through a new age of light,
Has the fire, with its all consuming warmth,
taken you as its victim?