Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Does he understand or care that I sleep better in his tight space. I know he locks me away so I don't bother him while he is sleeping. Plus I really don't deserve to be in his bed. He is so much more powerful than I can ever hope to be. He smells so good and takes up so much space in bed. In the place he puts me I feel his love. As he chains me to his bed and gags me, as he blindfolds me. I feel his breath on my neck, whispering for me not to hold back my cries. I can't believe he thinks I would hold anything back? I want him to know I appreciate the pain he gives me. The freedom he gives me to let everything out. Where would I be without what he has taught me? I feel so free and beautiful in the special place he has given me. After he finishes with me, after he has cum and let me cum. After he has released me from his chains on his bed. He gives me my special gear. My sleep gear. He ties me up in the bondage of night. Places my special anal plug deep inside of my ass. It's always a surprise how gentle he is when placing it inside. Even though he does not use lube for anal sex. He uses it for the anal plug I sleep in. I always feel such exhilaration as he leads me to his cage, on my knees, by the chain made into the plug. When he places me inside, I look up at him with tears in my eyes. Because I miss him at night. He always leaves me a little something so I don't cry about that all night. Right before he closes the metal gate shut. As I lay down in my tight space in his closet. He says, "Open your mouth my little pig." When I do with my eyes open, so eager for one last look at him. One last taste of him. When I have my eyes and mouth open. He looks at me and says, "wider". I know he wants me to open my mouth wide until it really hurts. And I am. But I know he wants me to try harder. So I open my mouth until my skins tears ever so slightly. When he is satisfied with looking at me like that. He makes a sound from deep down in his throat. And spits right into my mouth. I feel it in the back of my throat. I taste it on my tongue. He looks at me a little longer. Laying there with my mouth open looking into his eyes, with his spit in my mouth. He says, "What do you say, slut?" I answer "thank you, Sir." He closes the gate. I close my eyes. He walks away in silence. He turns out the light and closes the closet door. I can hear him when he sits on the bed and picks up his guitar. As he plays I wonder if he is singing me to sleep or just writing new songs? I know it's the latter. But I sleep like a baby anyway.
When I awake in the morning I wonder if it's too early for him. Is he awake yet, I wonder. probably not. It seemed he stayed up all night smoking and writing new songs. I lay very still and try not to wet the mat. It's very hard because I sort of have to pee. I weigh the thought in my head. If he is awake he will be in to wake me soon enough, giving me time to ask for permission to use the bathroom. If he is still sleeping, I'll have to deal with the consequence of wetting the mat. The last time I was in this very situation Sir told me if I could not control myself (which I can't) I would have to sleep on the wet mate for a few days, or sleep with no mat until I learned to control myself. I can't control myself so I close my eyes and return to sleep. I dream of his bed and how warm it would be if I were laying next to him. This leads to my regretting talking back three weeks ago, the action that lead me to sleeping in my Spacial Place...well in the first place.
I hear his Blackberry buzz with a text message, maybe he is awake. I open my eyes with excitement. I can not hear him move. Does he respond to his phone? Did he even hear it? I hear him move on his bed. I turn over and start sucking my thumb to distract me from all of the excitement of Sir being definitely awake and my having to pee. Only it doesn't work and I feel the wet begin to leak out onto the mat. I try to go back to sleep, it's not like he ever wants to be bothered when he first wakes up. To my surprise he opens the closet door and turns on the light. Sir is so beautiful first thing in the morning. He is like some Satanic Angel with his clothes off like this. He looks sleepy as he runs his fingers through his short black hair. My eyes are not fully adjusted but his eyes are still the most beautiful sight I have seen in my lifetime.
He kicks the cage with his foot a little. "Piggy, wake up I have a meeting this morning." I move around a bit so he can see that I am indeed awake without me having to take my thumb out of my mouth. It is now being sucked with anticipation. I don't want him to know that I have wet myself. Especially now knowing that he has this morning meeting. Meaning I will take extra time which is always frowned upon by Sir. Extra attention cleaning my mess. He picks out a suit and a Black London Fog Coat to match. "I'll be back to deal with you in a moment." Fuck, that means I have to lay here in my own mess until he is dressed. That should take about an hour. So I fall back to sleep.
I'm awaken by his Black Doc Marten boot kicking the outside of the metal cage hard. "Pig, time to get the fuck up. We have twenty minutes to get you clean and dressed and down to the kitchen." I'm awake all shocked from the cage rattling and the screaming. "I may need more time than that, Sir." I say to him. "Why, are you a little Pissy Pants again?" Fuck, why does he always know. "Yes, Sir" I answer already crying, like he gives a shit. He gets down on his knees so he can look me right in the face. " No breakfast for you this morning and I'm going to have to start keeping you out in the backyard if you can't control yourself, Pissy Pants." I look up at him still in tears. He unlocks the cage and places a collar around my neck. He attaches a leash onto it. Takes me out of the cage and removes his plug. He then leads me out of the closet by my leash. I can see the frustration in his eyes as he looks at the wet mat. He begins to drag me across the floor to the bathroom. "Hurry the fuck up, Pissy you only have twenty minutes. Are you fucking deaf?" He kicks me hard in the ass with his boot in order to speed up the process of me being dragged to the bathroom.
It's still warm on the bathroom floor because of him steaming up the bathroom while he got ready. I lay on the floor strangely enjoying the warmth and the dryness. At this point he usually takes off my collar so I can shower and get dressed. This time he leaves me laying on the floor and begins filling the bathtub with water. Does he want me to bath in under twenty minutes? I wonder. After the tub is full he walks back over to me laying on the floor. He picks up my leash and pulls me up towards him. "Get up." I do as I am instructed and stand up as straight as I can. Bad posture is not allowed by Sir even in this circumstance. "I don't know if I can bath in under twenty minutes, Sir." I say to him. "Did I say you can make a fucking peep?" I shake my head no. He Begins to undo his cuff links, rolls up his sleeves and I can tell by the way he removes my collar and walks me over to the tube that he is going to bath me himself. This could prove to be a bit romantic.
I get in the warm water. It feels so good since I was cold and wet half of the morning. He sits in a chair near the edge of the bathtub, gets a sponge and rubs my back and exposed chest. Then he gets it nice and wet and lets it drip over my head. This feels very nice and is going to take more than twenty minutes. I want to remind him that he said we only have twenty minutes. But I know better than to remind Sir of anything. He begins to run his fingers through my hair gently kissing me on the forehead. I look into his beautiful eyes and smile. He smiles back and I think he mouths I love you. After which he grabs a hold of my hair tightly and proceeds to drown me forcefully in the tub. It is a full head and body dunking action that immediately takes my breath away. This is repeated over and over again for five minutes. I kick and scream and hit both my legs and elbows on the porcelain. I can hear him laughing as I come up a mere second for air. Up and down I go. The fucker is drowning me and he thinks it is funny. I'm not sure how much water I have snorted or swallowed and I know he does not care. For a minute I contemplate my own death. Am I stupid enough to let him drown me? Is Sir going to kill me like this? All of these thoughts go through my head for the next ten minutes. He holds me down under the water for what seems like a lifetime but is only two minutes. When he finally takes his hands off of my hair and face I sit upright in the tub and catch my breath. "All of that fucking splashing and you manged not to get me wet. Good Girl, because that would have landed you in the Gimp house unsupervised today." I barely comprehend as I try to catch my breath. "Get dressed, you have ten minutes." He hands me a towel and walks out of the bathroom.
I get dressed in the clothes he has laid out for me on his bed. A red baby doll dress, black and white striped tights, a black and white spiked collar, and White Doc martens. I make up the bed and go downstairs with one minute to spare. I see him check his phone laying on the kitchen table for the time. He does not tell me I did a good job getting cleaned and dressed in under twenty minutes. But he smiles so I know he is proud of me. He is at the table eating toast, fruit, and vegan pancakes he had his chef make for our breakfast. I sit down across from him at the table in front of my plate. It's a mirror of his meal. I am very hungry after the night of sex and punishment. Not to mention the bath he just gave me. Before I begin to eat. He reminds me because of my wetting the mat I will not be eating breakfast this morning. I smile and thank him. I drink some ice water while he finishes his breakfast. He reminds me to make sure the bathroom and bedroom are clean before he gets home this afternoon and to clean up my place in the closet. "Don't touch the mat in the cage. You are going to sleep on it again tonight, Pissy Pants. I have to train you like a little fucking dog I see." After he is done with breakfast we go into the living room so he can pick up his keys and coat. He gives me my instructions for the day. In addition to the upstairs rooms I'm to clean the kitchen and back patio. Take his suits to the dry-cleaner, clean all of the linen and not eat a single thing all day. "If I suspect you put anything in that filthy mouth of yours you will be punished...and I punish severely. Do you understand?" I wonder if he would know if I just had a little something? Yes, I know he would so I answer with "yes, Sir." It's not like he can't tell if I am lying by looking right at me. He gives me a kiss and a pat on the ass and is out the front door. I go upstairs to begin my list of chores.
I play his music loud as it can go to keep me company. The hard rock helps me get through the work faster.
I rush to the window to watch him get into his car and drive away. As I watch him get into his Aston Martin DSB I wonder if I made him happy today. Either way it's a long day of missing him. I get to work on the list he left me working through the itching bruises. I really need to put peroxide and cream on my back. I go collect the linen from all of the rooms and take it over to the laundry cottage out back. Then I run back upstairs to grab the things for the cleaners. I also grab some big shades. I have a few bruises on my face and I despise the way the women who work there look at me from over the counter. I take a quick look into the mirror and the bruises are very clear and swollen and so are the ones on my lip. Maybe a little lipstick. Fucking bitches I really hate having to go out in the daytime. I pick up the grocery list he left on the entrance table.
I have all of my duties performed including making a dinner that I could not eat. He calls at 2:30 to make sure I was done and to tell me we had a special task because it had began to rain. He began with detailed instruction of what I was to wear and how I was to remember my posture. "Go outside and sit in the garden out front until I tell you to move. Take the phone with you." I run upstairs and put on the white lace cami and pink underwear like instructed and head out to the front garden. It is pouring down and I am cold. The no shoe part of the his instructions may prove to be the hardest part. I am already freezing when I sit down in the chair. I can see the neighbors from here and of course if they are not blind they can clearly see me. I hope this is not going to be a long exercise. I start to ask him since he is still on the phone but I think again and decide not to. "Are you sitting down yet? he ask. I answer yes. "Are you cold? he ask. I answer yes. "No you are not. Use your mind to regulate your temperature" he says. I think to ask if my mind can stop the rain but I know better and just say nothing. I stay in this position for one hour. He stays silent on the other end of the phone."Are you still cold?" I finally hear him say. Yes I answer. "That's because you are not regulating your temperature. Start with your feet and just relax." Since my feet are frozen they can not be relaxed. I attempt to regulate them for the next thirty minutes. I finally hear him on the other end of the phone. He tells me he will call me back and not to move until he says so.
At 6Pm he calls me back to say he is down the street. I had almost fell asleep sitting there. Of course my neighbors walking by asking me why I was sitting out in the garden in the rain kept me active. It was testament to their ultra polite English background that they did not mention my being in underwear. Master pulls into the driveway and I contain my need to run into his arms. My muscles are really sore at this point. He gets out of the car with his Guy De Jean Umbrella. He walks over to me and rubs my wet head. He kisses me on the forehead. "Thank you for doing this for me. You look so beautiful right now. I'll be right out to get you." He turns around and walks into the house. I wait outside for him in the pouring rain until 9pm. I wonder what he is doing while I wait. Eating his dinner. Taking off his clothes. Taking a shower. Working on songs. The cold turns to numb than to pride in my heart at the level of discipline I am showing. I really want to make master proud of me. Sometimes I think it is too hard, but at moments like this when I am offered such an opportunity. It's hard not to be a little overwhelmed with joy at my level of discipline. He has taught me so much and I am so thankful. I wonder if he realizes how much I love him when my neighbor walks over. "Are you okay sweetheart?" Yes I answer not looking at him. "You've been out here for a while, aren't you cold" I'm fine, thank you for asking Superman. Still not looking at him I answer, "Thank you, I am fine." I see him go to the front door. Master opens it and they begin to talk. I see the neighbor guy immediately start to laugh and I know he has been told the truth about why I am out here. He looks at me again and starts to say something but just smiles and walks away. I hear Sir close the door behind him.
It is 10pm when he finally calls me to say I can come inside.
The exercise portion of the evening being over is only sort of a release for me. I didn't mind the cold and wet so much if that is what makes Sir happy. He likes to feel like he is in control all day. He definitely is he must know this. It just somehow has to be proven over and over again. Sometimes I think he puts me through this so I can prove to myself that life is bigger than me. Before I found my Master I was a very selfish girl. I kept everything to myself and only cared about myself and I thought that was the way life was. Being here with Master reminds me that life is so much more than myself and my desires. It reminds me that I can push myself for someone else. That I can be more than just a self-serving person. To give yourself over to another person like this is not easy. It takes a lot of strength and trust. I hope he is proud of me.
He is waiting in the foyer. "Thank you for waiting for me. You did a really good job, Honey. I'm very proud of you." he says as he wraps me in a towel. "How much longer could you have waited?" All night I answer. I could have. He tells me he has already cleaned up the kitchen I just have to clean myself and the living room and of course the wet mess I made in the foyer and I can meet him upstairs. I perform the few task he assigns and I meet him in the bedroom where he has tea and biscuits waiting for me. I'm really excited about the biscuit part because I have not eaten all day and I am a bit hungry. As I go sit next to him on his bed I am excited by the look in his eyes. It's anticipation like he really missed me all day. Of course it's really ridiculous for me to imagine he thought about me all day but I like to do it anyway. He is wearing a blue tee and tight black pants, fuck if he is not the Angle of Death I don't know what he is. As I set down next to him I want to touch him and have him hold me in his arms. But that is a dream, I sit down and fold my hands in my lap and try not to look him directly in his beautiful face. "Is the tea for me?" I ask a bit nervous from my wanting to touch him. "Of course sweetheart. Can you handle seeing the food knowing you can't have any?" What? I want to eat really bad but I answer him right away, "yes, sir". He smiles and watches me drink my tea in silence trying not to recognize the biscuits as being at all edible. I finish my tea while he tells me about his day and the deals he made for the new album release. He plays one of his new songs and it is so beautiful I begin to cry. After the song is finished he calls me a crybaby. He then reminds me of the late hour and shows me the clothes he has picked out tonight.
I walk over to the chaise lounge and begin to put on my clothes. Black lace fishnets, black latex shorts, black lace top, a red corset and black boots, also a custom leather face mask with an extended cork gag made into it. "Don't look so afraid, it's just for sleeping." I hear him laugh and say. He must see my hesitation in my body movements. "I'm kind of tired." I muster up the strength to say this knowing this ensemble is meant to be used for brutality and nothing else. I've had a long day and I am very tired and hungry. I was really looking forward to going to bed. "I didn't ask you how you were feeling. Now get dressed." So psychos never sleep and neither do their pets is the thought that is going through my mind when he begins to explain why I will not sleep tonight. "We have a real problem, Little Piggy." He begins, "We like to piss on everything. Our clothes, our chairs, our floors, our mats, and unfortunately my car. (I made a wee in his trunk last week but we'll get into that later on) don't we?" he ask. I want to explain how I don't ever do it on purpose it's just that I have a weak bladder and it's hard to hold after so many hours. "Would you like me to remove your bladder for you?" he inquires. "No, Sir." I answer. "Then we need to control ourselves, don't we?" I look up at him for the first time. Now fully dressed and I want to explain to him that I try but it is really difficult. "Do I have to show you what not to do again?" When he says show me what not to do he means by doing it. What he does not understand is I know what not to do. I just don't know how not to do it. Him pissing all over me is not going to help. But I say nothing of course. "Get on all fours" I do as the command says. "Lift your head up. Remember no slouching." He handcuffs my hands together, than puts on my mask and gag. He gets up and walks back to the bed. I remain in this position near his bed for two hours.
I hear him walk across the room. I am happy at this sudden movement and noise because he has not spoken to me the whole time. I feel him near by. He rubs me head and runs his hands down my back to my ass. I feel the cat of nine tails he holds in his opposite hand caress my legs ever so slightly. He whispers into my ear, " You have to constantly be reminded to control yourself in every situation. If you can not control yourself especially under my directions than you will be punished." He rubs my ass again. "Now I don't want to hear a fucking peep from you? Do you understand?" he ask. I shake my head in a yes response. He hits me once on the ass with the whip. I moan loudly. "Shh" he whispers. "Not a fucking peep" he reminds me. I takes a deep breath in a attempt to control myself. He hits me again this time much harder. I hold my breath and my sounds back. He hits me again. The leather spreads and each separate strip hits me on a different part of my ass. I already want to cry but I remain silent. Over and over again the leather stings and burns. I already have bruises on my ass and this only increases the pain. He hits me a total of 16 times. I know because I keep a mental count in my head. Right before bed he will ask me the total of times I took his punishment. If I am to answer the question wrong the punishment begins again this time for double the times. I'm really good at not forgetting the number. He begins to caress my back and shortly after his whip replaces his sweet touch. The first strike across my back feels like fire. It opens one of my old wombs and that feels like sweat and salt mixed together in there. I want to tell him to stop and that I am sorry. But there are no safe words during these punishments. If I pass out it's worse when I come to. I think about My Little Pony the cartoon as he hits my back a total of 25 times. This helps me not to make too much noise or pass out. I hear his boots on the floor walking away. I want to lay down. He can tell and says from across the room, "Stay in position or we start from the beginning, Pissy Pants." I remain in position and let the pain in my knees distract me for the pain on my back and ass.
When he walks back across the room towards me it is a welcome release from the anxiety of the wait. Now I don't know if it is over or will he continue. He removes my mask and gag. I relax my jaw for the first time in three hours. He stands over my now uncovered head and looks down at me. I look up at him. Right into his eye where I'm not ever suppose to in situations like this. But I can't help it, he is the most beautiful creature I know of. He stares down at me for a while like he has something to say but it has somehow been forgotten. I feel his eyes on me. He is so beautiful but right now there is only brutality in his face and I know my punishment is far from over. He puts out his boot. This is a sign for me to lick it and I do. Gladly, I love the taste of the leather in my mouth and on my tongue. He kicks me hard in the face to get me to stop. I taste the blood and want to fall to the floor but I remain in position. He walks back across the room to his bed. "Come here" he order me. I get up and walk over to him. He wipes the blood off of my mouth. Then kisses me. "I want you to learn to control yourself. Do you understand me?" I answer yes. He holds my chin in his hands and looks me right in the face for two minutes. "You fucking can't, can you?" he finally asks. " I can, Sir." I answers not knowing why I knew it was not true. He removes his very ample penis form his pants. I take a deep breath because even though I have seen his manhood many times I'm always shocked by it. It's so nice and smooth and vain filled. A perfect specimen indeed. "Get on your knees" he orders. I do as I am told immediately. "Open your mouth, Pissy Pants." I open my mouth as wide as I can. He looks at me for a while. Spits right into mouth than places his member deep down my throat. I immediately begin to chock since I have not even swallowed the spit yet. I begin to suck his cock like it's my dinner and in reality it is. Maybe his cum can help me fight off my unavoidable starvation. He takes control of the situation almost instantly and pushes my head against the bed. He holds my still handcuffed hands back and begins to pump his cock into my mouth as if it were a vagina. The more I choke the further in he goes. He pumps my face full of penis for what seemed like a lifetime. After he covers my face with his ejaculate. "Good job, Mouth Hole. You like having those big balls on your face, Cuntfuck?" I gargled some words or other. Before he drops me to the hardwood floor.
I wake up still naked and covered in him on the floor. I guess he allowed me doze off for a while. I turn over he is sitting on his bed drinking tea and thumbing his guitar for relaxation. He notices that I am awake. He smiles down at me. He casually ask, "Do you finally have your shit together?" I guess I do. I don't really know how long I've been asleep and my mouth and throat hurt like hell. So I answer him in the positive. He seems somewhat satisfied with my answer. "I need you to get your shit together and go stand in the corner." I look up in confusion. He is sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands in his lap. He kicks me a little to see if I understand what he is saying. "Right over there" he points to the corner with his foot. Than kicks me with his boot to get me moving. "Hurry, sweetheart" I get up and my entire body body is throbbing. I go to the corner where the chains are mounted to the ceiling. I stand with my back towards him. He walks over and removes the metal handcuff and replaces them with the leather ones. He then place the ceiling chains into the loops of the handcuffs. I stand with my hands over my head while he stands behind me. I can feel his breath on the nape of my neck and it is heaven. He touches my stomach and squeezes my breast a little too hard and I scream. He pulls my head back hard with my hair and says in a very low voice into my ear. "Not a fucking peep." Sir returns back to his bed and tea and I remain here standing chained in the corner. My imagination is left to go wild.
But not for long. He returns to me and says, "This is only happening because you can not be a big girl and hold your fucking piss." I don't move or say a world. "This is the final time I'm doing this. The next time you piss in my house or in my car I am going to end you." His worlds are like spikes but his breath on my neck still arouses me. "Do you understand?" The tears begin to run down my face because I know he means it. This is my final warning and I'm not sure I really can control myself in the future. He wipes me tears away and begins running his fingers down the small of my back to the top of my ass. He steps away and shortly after he whispers, "close your eyes." I do and I feel his leather strap hit my ass with such force I fall to my knees. Which of course don't touch the floor because I am chained to the ceiling. It only increases the pain in my wrist. I try to straighten myself up when I feel the next blow. I beginning to scream and cry. He stops and grabs my neck. " Not a fucking sound, Fuckslut." Each time the leather hits my flesh it's like the most incredible violent pleasure ever. I hold my breath so I don't make any noise. I feel myself getting wet as my body tingles from the impact of his paddle. I close my eyes and think of running through grass covered hills mid spring. I thinks of rain falling on my face. The tears stop and he notices. "Are you trying to block me out. Fuck you" He hits me so hard I fall off of my feet again. My head hits the wall hard and this time I am a dizzy. "You fucking pay attention to me while I am punishing you. You fucking Pissy little Whore" He hits me again and my head is still swimming and tight. But I manage to say "I'm sorry, Sir" anyway. I work my way back onto my feet. He begins to hit harder with each blow. "Are you keeping count, Pig?" I am but I can not speak because of the pain and ecstasy. He strikes me again this time harder than all the others combined. "Fucking answer me?" I take a deep breath and say, "Yes, Sir" I let my head fall to the wall again. I hear him say "How many?" I don't remember. The next blow reminds me. "Twelve" I say. "Count out loud", he says. I begins to count. Thirteen, fourteen, fifth-teen, sixteen. Each time the leather touches my skin it is like a barbwire kiss. I love it so I close my eyes, cry and keep count. Nineteen, twenty, twenty one. I can nearly take the pain and I never want him to stop. Twenty five, twenty six, thirty. I start to scream as I count. Thirty one, thirty two, thirty three, thirty four.
...to be continued
Master walks back across the room obviously exhausted. I stay in the corner and am allowed to catch my breath. He explains that I am still not allowed to sleep with him and he is certainly not sleepy so I am to remain silent while he makes a few phone calls. I take this as an opportunity to try and fall asleep. Since I am limp anyway and he can not see my face I will just lay my head against the wall and doze off while he is on the phone. When he wakes me he explains the I am in no position tonight to fulfill his sexual needs. Master explains to me that he will be having a friend come over to keep him company and I am to sleep in my cage on the wet mat. He unties me from the ceiling mounts and says "Get on your knees ,sweetheart." I do so and get down on all fours. "I don't want to hear you at all tonight, do you understand?" I respond in the positive and relax my back a little. He rubs oil and cream on all of my swollen bruises. He gently places his plug deep inside of my already swollen anus. This is one of his bigger plugs and it is unusually painful. "This is for comfort and practice remember that." he explains in his very gentle voice. I feel my body stretching to fit his instrument and I know it will make my sleeping all the more pleasant. A mask is place over my head. It is red and black rubber with the mouth hole open. It fits over my face like a glove. I immediately relax. He then places a gag deep into my mouth. I close my eyes in order to take the pain of my mouth stretching further than is usually comfortable. He places my collar on and leads me to his closet by a leash. When he opens the closet and leads me back to the cage he says, "I want you to clean your smell out of here in the morning. It's fucking disgusting." I enter the cage completing debilitated. He closes the gate. Before he walks away he reminds me that I am so disgusting for pissing on myself and I still need to be reminded that I'm being punished. He takes his big cock out and pisses all over the cage. The warn liquid covers me and the entire cage. I open my mouth to get some on my lips. I am a little disappointed that my mouth is gagged so none goes in there. "You did a good job today little piggy. You turned yourself into a toilet so don't be disappointed." those are the last words he speaks to me for the rest of the night. He kicks the cage further back into the closet walks away and turns out the light. Before he closes the door I think I hear him say, "I love you, good night." But that may have been just in my imagination. I close my eyes and try to fall asleep.
About an hour later I hear him speaking to a women in his room. This must be the person he called. The one he wants to keep him company tonight, since I am being punished. I wonder if she is just a hooker, or does she recognize him. I can tell by the excitement in her voice that she is both. A hooker who recognizes him. I hear her say, "I love all of your movies." I can tell by that statement alone she has no idea about the music or what he is capable of. She is in for a very unpleasant surprise. He tells her to get undress and lay on her stomach on the bed. I hear her ask, "Do you live here alone?" He does not answer. Instead he slaps her and says, "Shut the fuck up. Face down." She begins to cry. I want to warn her that the waterworks just makes him more violent, but she will find out soon enough.
He begins to tie her to the bedpost. She explains, "I'm not really into this sort of thing." He hears her but he continues. "Good" He answers. She begins to cry louder. Not really a scream but a loud whimper. She pleads, "please don't hurt me." He smiles and kisses her on her back. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to." She screams loudly. Maybe for help, maybe in hopes of pleading with him. Either way it is lost in this room with only me to hear it. He straddles her on the bed and places a black leather belt around her neck. He places his member deep into her anus and she begins to scream fucking bloody murder. The large member begins to pump into her body hard and consistent. He pulls on the belt, and I hear her scream from the pain and the asphyxiation. The headboard is banging against the wall hard. Master is not showing this stranger any mercy as she yells, "you are killing me, please you are killing me." He rips her deeper with his penis and begins to pump harder and harder. All the while pulling on the leather belt around her neck harder. He takes the belt in one hand and picks up the shinny knife he has on his nightstand. He is using one hand to pull the belt and the other to cut deep lines into her back. The sound of her squealing becomes unbearable. I wonder why he won't gag her and then I understand. This is for me. This is my reminder that this could be me. I then understand that she will never leave Master's bed. He cuts 13 four inch deep lines into her skin as he fucks her and chokes her. "You are a useless Pig and I can't allow you to leave this house." he says to her as he cuts. I hear him moan from his ejaculation which he lets go inside of her anus. There is quite a bit of blood dripping from her back to his bed as he unties her and has her turn over. She tries to fight but he just cuts her on her wrist and fingers with the knife he is still holding. He puts down the knife and holds her two wrist in his hands. "If you calm down and stop screaming I will make this happen fast." I hear him say to her. She looks him deep into his face, a face of such beauty but now only filled with terror. "Why are you doing this to me? Please let me go." she pleads. He answers, "I can't. You already told me you know who I am? 'Before she can tell him she won't say anything he grabs her mouth. Squeezes her jaws together until her tongue pokes out. He grabs her tongue between his fingers and pulls it out. It takes the knife only a second to remove it.
The room fell silent. I with the full understanding of what had just occurred closed my eyes. In hopes of blacking out the horrible sin, or escaping from this room. I know she is dead. He just killed her, I know it. But why? How could he? He says he goes this far but I never knew he'd go this far. Is she really dead? His laughter fills the room and I know she is dead. I close my eyes tighter and an attempted to be dead as well. There is a desperate whimper coming from the room now, and I know she is not dead. I also know by the sound of his laughter that she will be soon. I close my eyes. I want to forget I ever bored him this much.
He is holding her by her neck. Her head is limp as she is caterwauling from the pain and fear. Blood is bubbling out of her mouth down her throat and onto the sheets. "This was not personal, it was all the screaming." he tells her. "Just keep it down a bit, I sometimes have sensitive ears." the madness in this statement alone causes her to wail. In turn causing him to use the knife again. This time deep into the left side of her stomach. She tries to mouth please. He tells her to try and relax. Maybe lie down a bit more. She collapses on the bed in a dead limp and he knows almost instantly she is passing out. "Don't do that. Don't even fucking do that." he screams while shaking her now limp and bloody frame. "Don't try to fucking block this out I"m talking to you!" He straddles her body as he screams and shakes her. She is not dead. Her breaths are light and she is losing lots of blood. He knows he won't have her for much longer. She is dying from the trauma to her body. Her eyes slowly open as he is looking right at her. "Please help me." she mouths. Only now can he see the full beauty of this women. Her dark hair and brown eyes. The exquisite jaw line, the way the light caresses her skin. She is gorgeous. Lying here under him. Helpless, frail, frighten. He is so turned on by that, he makes loves to her for the first time.
He holds her limp body as he enters her. Kissing her bloody lips. She is very wet as he forces himself into her. "ssh...let me love you. Calm down." he whispers into her ear. She closes her eyes and passes out. This invokes a new rage in him. He begins to scream again. I close my eyes tighter. "Don't fucking block this out." His movements become more violent. Maybe in rage or possible in an attempt to awake the dying girl. She does not respond to his actions. He takes this as a sign of disrespect and reaches for the knife again. This time using it to replace his penis. As he inserts the bloody knife into the Woman's womb her body begins to violently convulse. He tells her she is beautiful and that he hopes she enjoyed the fun time they had together. He says all of this as he pushes the knife in and out of her. He moans from the intense pleasure he is feeling. I close my eyes tighter. He turns the knife and pushes it in deeper. "Fuck you." He says to her body, now bereft of life. "You were a whore anyway, weren't you?" He ask no one. He continues using his knife as an extension of his penis for another 30 minutes. I fall asleep in my place. I know what he has done. I don't want to face it or him. I just want to fall asleep.
When Master comes in to wake me from my place in the closet. I don't know how much time has passed. I don't know what he has done, or if what I know he has done is even real. I don't know if any of this is even real. He opens the cage and removes my mask and gag. He pulls me out of the cage and holds me in his arms. "Do you want to come sleep with me now?" he asks in such gentle voice. I know what I heard earlier was only in my imagination. He picks me up and carries me into the bedroom. The lights are on but the curtains are drown so I have no idea what time it is. I half expect to see a dead girl on his bed. I half expect to see nothing. I am only half right. The girl is gone. How did he get rid of her? Where did he take her? I know not to ever ask. The bed is covered in blood. The scene takes me back to when his band performs a Blood Ball. But this is no performance. He and his bed are covered in blood. I close my eyes to tell myself this is not real. But it is far too real. He removes my leash and says," Sorry honey, I may have gotten a little out of control?" I couldn't think of a thing to say. So I laugh and say, "Ya think?" He laughs as he turns back the bloody sheets. Removes his surprisingly not too bloody clothes and gets on the bed. I lay next to him in this dead girl's blood. As I do so I accept the fact that I am now fully separate from my formal self. I embrace the Madwoman my master has created. As he takes me in his arms. As I ease into his warmth and the blood he whispers, "I love you. I did this for you. So you will know that you can do anything you want." He then asks if I am afraid. I tell the truth and say no. "Never be afraid of anything we do." He tells me.
In this moment, laying here with Sir. Covered in the blood of some now long gone dead girl. I feel happy. I feel at peace. I understand the lesson he has taught me. I know he has brought me into his madness. A madness which I shall never again be free from. He has created a world where all darkness is gone. He has removed all light and replaced it with this. With blood and cruelty. But also with gentleness and warmth. Laying here in his deed I am trapped in a new world. In a place Master has created only for us. I am part of his secret. A broken piece of porcelain only he can put back together. I close my eyes, this time in joy. Knowing full well something I never understood before tonight. His darkness is my peace.
He is cold at night and the bed is dry next to him. I'm sure it is all of the blood, but what of his coldness? This is the first night in months he has actually allowed me to sleep next to him. I know it is in order to purify me in this dead Woman's blood, but it is all so satisfying. Like we have become one. I have become united with his deed. Embracing his need to torture to no end, he has a desire to change the color and shape of flesh, to warp the human experience. Is he bored, is he mad, is he doing all of this to teach me a lesson, as a warning to me? I can not help but wonder if he kills them every time, even when he is not home with me. Or does he kill them just for me. I forgot to clean the kitchen, well here is a new body. I didn't get to the store in time, that's fine we will torture the next one together. I've never really seen him put a person to sleep. He stabbed the last one to death. He needed the blood, we both did I guess. I was really starting to miss sleeping next to him. He can not sleep next to me unless he has a lesson to teach. Sleeping in the blood teaches patience and silence. It offers stillness of heart and a oneness with the memory. I now she had to have enjoyed his knife somewhere near the end of her life. As she was spilling out she had to be somewhat thankful for it. It's not like he offers his gift to everyone. Most people don't even know he does this. His hair smells like shampoo and blood. I gently reach out to touch it. I can't see his face in the darkness, but I look at him anyway. His jawline can be made out in the shadows. He is gorgeous Not just because he is psychically perfect. He is that but he is also capable of executing his well on any living being. He really is a true Master. A genius in the mind and the flesh. Men like him don't suffer the way I suffer. All the remorse and guilt, Regretting every step, wondering if I could be wrong. He knows he is not wrong, and if he is so what. No one is ever going to stop him.
We can not be saved from Master's will. His mind is stronger than most other human's we meet. He brings most of them to their knees with their lust for his beauty He awes them with his mind. 158 IQ and can you imagine how boring most people are to him? That is why he kills them. It is why I have decided to dedicate my life to him and assist him in his task. He does not need me. I need him, to be useful to him is my only desire in this world now. But why would he really need me? I guess I am his true companion. We are equally matched in beauty and intelligence. We both understand how to mold minds and control the weaker masses. But he is my Master and I am here to serve him, not to be his real companion We are separate but equal. Not tonight. Tonight we are one with the flesh Our own and this dead girl's he has freed. Bound by the blood and the love. As he turns over in the blood soaked bed, I do so as well. He reaching over to hold me and say, "I love you, Pet. I know I get carried away, but I just want to show you how much I love you." He kisses the back of my neck, I close my eyes and we our both are asleep again in moments. We sleep the peaceful sleep of people who have true freedom.
His phones buzzes at 7am. He looks at it and messages someone back. He sees I am awake next to him. "I have another meeting this morning" he says to me. "I need you to get the room together while I get dressed". He strokes my blood socked hair and smiles at me. For the first time I can see his face is soaked in blood and he looks beautiful. Almost like flesh that walks and talks, not just flesh, muscle tissue. Maybe I look the same because he laughs at me and says "seeing you like this makes me want to skin the next one". I laugh and tell him I will follow my instruction immediately. He gets up to walk over to the bathroom, he is completely covered in blood. Like a demon reborn into human flesh he walks across the floor leaving no trail though it looks like he should. I lay here for a moment and wish I had his strength. Then I realize my strength is my surrender to him. So I get up and start to take the sheets off of the bed. I am hysterical with laughter so I walk over to the stereo and put on some Led Zeppelin to help me enjoy the task a bit more. What the fuck did he do with the body? I want to ask him, but I know it is best for me to just get the linen downstairs and out to the bungalow for washing. When I open the back door and the sun hits my naked, blood socked body I want to dance. I really feel that free. The grass is cold and fresh on my feet. I am cover in blood and freedom and I just want to run around like this all day. Once I get everything into the laundry and return back to the main house and his bedroom he has showered and is looking through his closet. He chooses clothes for both of us. "You look like some kind of tiny warrior, you dumb fuck. Why are you so happy this morning?" He says to me. I just smile and answer. "I liked doing that". He gives me this knowing look then turns around and walks into the closet. I hear him say. "pig, you have five minutes to get clean, so fucking hurry up. Meet me downstairs after. Before you get dressed, I want to make sure you are perfectly clean." Five minutes to get all of the blood out of my hair. I kind of panic but I know he is perfect with time and the five minutes does not include getting downstairs and it starts now so I don't even dream of complaining. I just run to the shower.
It takes me four minutes to clean myself and get dry. On the bed Master has my clothes laid out for the day. I glace over to see they are mostly black but I have only one minute to get downstairs for inspection so I don't even walk over to them. When I get down to the kitchen Master is already eating his breakfast. His chef looks at the state I am in and leaves the kitchen. I walk over to Master and he looks up from his meal. He is eating oatmeal with fresh apples, and melon on the side. As he looks me over he checks his watch. He says, "Turn around." I do as I am told and let him inspect me from the back. "let me see your hair." I shake my air out, it is wet but their is no blood. I hope he can tell. "Go back upstairs and clean the bathroom and make sure you clean out your cage. You can have one piece of toast and and one slice of melon for breakfast." That is all he says and he goes back to eating. I take his lowing his head to read his paper as a sign for me to start getting dressed. I say "Thank you, Sir." and turn around to run back upstairs.
The only thing that comes to mind is I hope he will still be home after I finish all of this. I want him to see me in my clothes and tell me I look wonderful. I head into the bathroom and start cleaning out the shower and making sure I have all the bloody towels ready to be tossed. I'm not sure why he does not burn all of the bloody things. I wonder if he ever worries about being caught? What would people say about us, if they knew what he was doing to me and what we are doing to other people? I know our neighbors think we are a weird rock n roll couple and it is clear where all of his money comes from. One scandal and his career could be over. Yet he does not seem to even care that he has all of these dead women in the basement of the guesthouse or that I will be just tossing theses bloody towels out into the garbage cans. I'm not sure what he did with her body. I'm not even sure the others are in their. I just feel like she may be. They all may be. Some of them were in the past. Hidden away in the guesthouse His discarded pets. Or the guys he tortures so bad they can not be seen by anyone but the two of us. I know he keeps reminding me that our lifestyle is not wrong and he is only exorcising true freedom. But just for the time it take to gather the towels I worry for us. After I get rid of everything and get dressed in what he finds appropriate for a women in my station. Black fishnets, black and grey leopard print mini skirt and a black Nirvana baby doll tee shirt. And of course my little pig snot which I guess he thinks I deserve for all of my pissing in the cage. No underwear but he did lay out a little black spiked choker, which really fucking chocks I might add. So public humiliation and no breathing is the order of the day. I notice he did not include shoes. Meaning no shoes for today. Fuck I hate walking around with no shoes. He knows this and plus it is very cold outside. Once I am fully dressed I hear his car pull out of the driveway. He did not even care to check on me one last time. I know he will be gone for the remainder of the day and I don't really have anything to do outside other than to go shopping. I don't want to waste any time today. I am going to the basement of the guesthouse because I want to see the girl from last night. I want to see her face. I want to know if she is pretty or ugly, old or young. I want to know what her remains look like.
I run out to the guesthouse, as I open the door I wonder why he never locks it. I mean does he not think the Gardner or anyone will ever just peek in here. What if someone did and they found everything? I mean I know he told the maid to never go into his basement and the way he looks at her when he gives orders I know she knows better than to ever go in there. But what if she did? She would see what I see. As I open the door I can feel the cold of the place. It stays dark in here, even with the lights on it is dark. He has a bed in one corner next to two empty cages. The guy he has in the bed. Some blonde mohawked punk boy he keeps for whatever reason. He says it is to starve him to death, and by the looks of him. The guy should be dead already. As I walk passed him tied to the bed post by rope warped around all four limbs. I wonder how long it will take him to die. Master has the timing all calculated. I hear the guy say something to me as I walk by. Maybe he asked for water. But I know better than to feed the toys Master keeps down here, so I just ignore his cries. I walk over to the corner of the room where there is a second little door. The girls are in there. The guys are on the other side, But I am looking for the girl The one from last night. The one who recognized him immediately As I open the door I see her. She is laying on top of the other two from last week. The perky blond and the bald black girl with the face tattoos. Funny he decided to kill her, I thought he would keep her much longer. I pull the girl's body out and she is very heavy Her skin is pail as fuck and her eyes are still open. They are really beautiful, just like the rest of her. Too bad she could not stop screaming. Not that he was going to keep her, she was my punishment for wetting myself. I pull her out to the middle of the floor. She is tall. 5'9 I guess. Her boobs were not real and her hair still smells good. She has a great mouth. Very small with nice thick lips. I want to touch her fake boobs so I do. They feel like water balloons Her body is so smooth. I get on my knees next to the corpse and imagine I was a beautiful as she is. In death beauty is trapped forever. I can still smell her breath. I touch her legs and she is extremely cold and lovely looking. Like a vampire. I kiss her lips. They feel like she kisses me back. I go further down to look to see what he did to her womb. It is swollen, bloody and the flesh is all ripped out. Her outer labia, or labia majora is still in tact. So I begin to make love to her. The way he never would. He used a knife on her. I would never treat something so beautiful that way. I use my lips and we, me and this beautiful dead girl make the love she was dreaming of when she looked into his blue eyes last night. She taste like blood and him. I hear the guy in the corner start to cry. I stay with this dead woman for the next two hours.
I must have fallen asleep because I never heard Master open the basement door. I never heard him come in. All I remember is when I wake up,laying on the floor next to the girl I see Master talking to the guy tied to the bed. His name is Douglas and Master is asking him if he is ready to die. He is so gentle with him, starving him to death because he just wants to share himself this way with Douglas. When I see Master, finally I understand I have made a big mistake and I will have to explain myself to him. I get up, and try to explain. But he just keeps talking to Douglas. "You look so amazing Douglas, you know you where a fucking fat pig before I meet you." Douglas just cries and I am a bit jealous of him. Why is Master so nice to him anyway? "You have lost so much weight, I am proud of you." He kissed him. "You are hanging in there quite nice, sweetheart." He finally looks over at me. "So this is what you do when I am not home?" he asks. I explain I don't do this all of the time and I just wanted to know what she looked like. He looks at me and the dead girl on the floor. He ask me. "So what does she look like?" I look up at him. I get off of the floor and sit next to him on the bed where Douglas is bound. "Like heaven" I and answer. "How does she taste?" I look deep into his eyes and answer. "Like maggots,Sir."He laughs and we spit on Douglas. I do this because my mouth taste weird, Master does it because it is just what he does. He ask me finally, "Do you want to keep it?" I am a bit shocked by the question, but even more shocked by the answer "Yes." He looks at me and says Yes, what?." I smile because I believe I am going to get what I want. "Yes, Sir,"
We leave Douglas where he belongs and Master carries it out of the basement to the guesthouse proper for me. He explain that we can not keep her long, but since I have been doing my best to behave like a good pet, I could have one of my own. I can not believe this. I have never had my own pet and she is so lovely. I just imagine myself cleaning it up and combing it's hair. This is going to be a dream come true. My Master is so kind when I do the right thing. I think he is proud of me for not being weak and secretly feeding Douglas. He lets me know that we will have to keep her warm inside to have the most fun with the flesh. I can tell he has done this before but it is new to me so I pay close attention. He even tells me he feels a bit sorry for ripping her up so bad. Now that he sees she can be useful to us still.
"Do you know what to do with it?" yes I answer. "How many times have you come down here before?" I try to sounds as innocent as possible when I give my answer. "This is my first time. I just wanted to see her." He looks at me with a gaze implying he knows me better than I know myself. He adds, "and fuck her." In a matter of fact way. I say nothing. How he just states the natures of my sick and filthy desire, causes me to lower my eyes. What does he think of me? Are we both crazy? Has he completely possessed me with his darkness? The answer to the final question is yes. He has possessed me, I am his. I want to be more him, more mad, more free inside of my own mind. I walk over and lay down in the bed with him. He has carried the body over to the bed. The way he lays it down on the blankets, it's head on the pillow. It looks like it is sleeping. He even closes it's eyes. It's so lovely, I cuddle up close to it. I want to smell it's hair and taste it's skin again. Master walks into the bathroom. He is there for what seems like three minutes. I take the opportunity to kiss her lips again. It is so cold and beautiful. Truly an exquisite corpse. Mater created her, it's hard to imagine he didn't do it just for me. When Mater finally emerges out of the bathroom he has something I can not see in his hand. I don't really care what it is. He and it are coming over to get on the bed with us. I know this is going to be a really good time.
Mater sits down on the edge of the bed. I stay laying down with my arms wrapped around it. She is so cold, but I still want to share her with Master. The way we should have shared her last night. But we couldn't because I was being punished, maybe I still am. He caresses the breast of his corpse, then strokes my hair. He then touches it down there. In her womb, cut too large by his knife, but bloodless because I licked it all off. "She is too cold inside." he tells me as he rubs his cold fingers over the corpse's vagina. Finally his hidden instrument is revealed. It is a metal curling iron. It is very hot. I know because he burns me on my leg with it. The burn almost immediately blisters. I try to move my legs but his strength overpowers my own as he holds my legs still with his free hand. I cry as my skin burns. Once he feels I have suffered enough, and understand the nature his instrument. He tells me it is good for me to have a new scar. My scars are what makes me beautiful, he reminds me. "I don't want to hear you crying, shut the fuck up!" I try to control my tears and whimpers. Master returns his attention to the corpse. "Do you want me to show you what to do? How to keep her warm inside?" I do, but I do not want to speak, he will hear my whimper. That will lead to a harsher punishment tonight. I take a deep breath, get my shit together and answer, "yes, Sir." That makes him smile. Then he shows me what he does with the dead girls and guys he keeps in here.
He takes his instrument, still hot enough to severely burn skin. He runs it down the inner thigh of the corpse, takes his free hand and and opens up what remains of her labia majora. The hot instrument is inserted deep inside of it's womb. He sees the look of wonder in my eyes. "This helps them to stay warm inside." Master removes his clothes and gives me a wink. I think he is happy to be sharing this other part of himself with me. With his ample member in his hand, he removes the hot curling iron and replaces it with himself. For twenty minutes he takes the dead girl in this manner. While I watch and learn what pleasures Master. When he is done with it, he kisses me and says, "Do you get it? Now it's your turn. She is still warm, sweetheart." I wonder how many times he has done this with the dead girls he keeps? How many dead guys has he kept? It would be impossible for me to imagine this is his first time. Master has been fucking the dead for a very long while. Storing them in the basement after starving them or chocking them to death, or like this one, after stabbing them to death. He keeps the bodies, makes sure the most important parts are warm, then gives them the pleasure only a lucky few ever have. Master is perfect. beautiful, and wicked. He lays next to the corpse, as I take my turn with her still warm body.
When awake after hours he is gone. I am still laying, cuddled with the corpse. I get out of bed to makes sure it is all under the covers and the blanket. I place it's head in the most comfortable position on the pillow. I put my clothes back on, including pig snot and head back into the main house to take a bath. Master will return soon and I need to have all of the housework done, including making dinner before he gets home. After I get out of the bath I find a note on the dresser from Master. It reads as follows:
You are to be clean, have all of the laundry done, and your filthy caged must be cleaned out. If I smell you in my closet, you are going to regret it. More than you ever can imagine. The chef will make my dinner. You will have three crackers, one apple, and one cup of water. Do not go into the guest house again today.
...to be continued.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Sunday, November 3, 2013
I don't relate to you
I'm just listening
You can't understand my story
see we are different
the level of insanity is not equal
and I see it
you are the surface and I am the dept
I can search my whole life
and never end of here
in a room that smells like beer and incense
you are insane and this has made me shameless
in my judgments and my vagueness
there are no words that can save us
only prayers to recognize us
quiet demons with pretty wings
and way too much money
how do you measure wealth and success
I love the greedy and arrogant
we are the lazy and self serving
starving for another helping of creativity
I write it all down and he paints it
the things I dream most would never even think it
I'm not like them
so why do they try to wear the same stuff
you look like I did in high school
and that is a British teenage prostitute
no one understood what I was getting away with
now I dress like the kid sister of Morrissey and Robert Smith
down payment on the things I have't said yet
what is it to be a writer
to wake from dreams and make the dreams
to have the world cry with you as you explain
so many things are just too plain and basic
so color and songs exist in this world
not just to shape this place but to save it
I lived millions of days
but I can tell this one is going to be one of my favorites
It feels like poetic justice
or some kind of lyrical down payment
I am Josalisa and I come from pavement...to riOt
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
I'm just going to write this all down, the thing that is in my head. However this feeling I never speak of. So this shall be a dance around my actual intent. Deep down inside of me lies a dormant dragon. I'm over all all my own attractions, that is the things I find interesting and the people who gather in the interest. I have it in my heart that I look at things from a distance, yet I know I listen and I'm honest. So that just puts me right up in everything. I've seen it all, or have been told. It's the same old situation all of the time. The game of life. Chess played as checkers. You can see all the wrong moves being made before anyone ever moves their pawn, or rook, or checker piece. Am I bored or just numb? I have to ask myself the same question I have been asking since I was four years old...why can I not just participate and enjoy it like everyone else pretends to? This can get very depressing so let me remind myself for myself that Artemis is out of town and things get a little emotional when that happens.
All of this really comes from a dreams. I see the future. Stupid things that can never change a bit but somehow are still revealed to me. So I can see them unfold right before my eyes. This is my heavenly curse to be played out right here on Earth. This dream was more of a pinned up emotion however. I saw my emotions worked out and reveal to myself a secret anxiety. I did not care in the dream, as I would not in life but still it was played out. This is more of my useless vagueness I promised in my opening line. It's like I know I am loved and have love, but who the fuck really cares anyway?
Okay so during this call to my depression my Guru sent me a message that changed everything. The message put everything into prospective and I have recalled my actual purpose on this rock. So um forget about sad dreams of feeling distant from people I should stay far away from. Okay so here is a poem:
To Remind Them...or Me
I soar that is why I feel the separation
the imagined change
in my heart beats a lion...caged
a girl a woman an eagle free
why do I feel locked inside me
I paint the canvas with faith
an artist true
we are all the same me and you
I cry for my lover
as my lover sleeps
things are missing
no they are still right here
I miss you but you never leave me
like a teacher here to teach me
I cry over things I do not want
I cry for not wanting them
they seem so popular and happy
inside my heart lies an atlas
I want to go everywhere and I will
I cry for being here because I dream of there
at this moment
at this moment
there is only this
a dark line
a wild dark mistress
what will be my fate
searching for things long ago reveled
trying to heal wombs that have long ago healed
I am a bird in flight
waiting for it all to be revealed
we are ever lasting miracles
that is why I sit still
I am Josalisa and this my chums is a RiOt.
Monday, September 23, 2013
This is for my own sanity. I must put it in order in the digital universe or on a private piece of paper kept secretly under my bed. Your voice is all that keeps me, yours and my own. I give private ceremony to my dreams. I sing in little rooms to people who believe in ghosts but have never seen them. I pray the song amazing grace to folks who believe in angels but have never met me. They smile and I shed a tear for us all. So far away from the gates we may not see it coming down. There is more dedication in rock and roll but I will still belt it out to the congregation for the hope of it all. All we have now is the songs and magic. Black magic in large doses filling up our small bodies. Like swamp people surviving a hurricane by never leaving home. So many people want the world to end. But it won't you just die and we live on. Not every one has a cosmic origin, some of you are the meek here to inherit the Earth. I've touched your grave stones on a mere accident looking for ancestral dust under dirt. You could have had it all but you wanted something you could never have and the things you never dream of. You only get what you dream even if you show up. That is funny too. Eli tells you everything but few ever listen and most have forgotten this is not a lifetime but a spiritual mission.
All the poets smile at me and ask me to dance. I always say yes because they really do know best what is going on around here. We pay actors to mesmerize but magician do it for free. I lock myself secretly into small private libraries because as usual the public has become too mainstream. I ask the old and dying important things. They always remember the answers and point me in the right direction. I sit in private rooms with rich artists hashing over the things they feel they could not touch. They point me in the right direction to remind the bored of true love. It comes from great suffering and self respect. I now know all is well and nothing can ever be lost. Why do I miss the nothing so much? I sing to the sweet and the endearing hopeful dreamers while my peers attempt to be famous, or rich without checking their personal inventory. We give away what we want so much on the way. I see this so clear, so I sit still and cry the smallest tear to his voice. We all know it but can not hear the trumpets that also sound. A beautiful man saves us all as we drown together.
We could wait until the end but that is just the beginning. We can enact revenge but one never understands why one is truly screaming. So I come to you with my faith in my hands. I remember every shaman I ever kissed or embraced. Every member of my star family I ever met face to face. They gave me my faith and it can not be tarnish though it is black as a cosmic map. I've gone from beautiful girl to raving maniac and I will say it is a wonderful world. I feel sorry for the ones who will never let go. The ones will attempt to hold it all by the seams and never hear the sound of...the great all there is. Who consume but never create. Have you ever been stopped in a street so a crowd can form to ask you what you dream and how it inspires them so? What does it even mean that I have? I've come to remind those lost we are now found and the stars do glow for us. A breath is all it takes to bless the nations of gentle souls. Keep going. Allow the heart to expand. Smile through the tears and meet the family half way up the road. They will appear as angles of color and fire. I feel them all. Running and singing all the familiar songs. We have it all right here inside of us. I forgive you all the ones who I think are weak or cruel or maybe just liars. It's not my cruelty. It's not my weakness. They are not my lies. I am here for the stars and the bright lights. I am here as he lives. So it will never happen again.
This could be my last breath. I have said it all. I share my soul with the ones who wake me at night. I've cried in the arms of the great men of my time and I have said it all. I repeat myself as a form of art. I have listened to the desperate pretend they see magic in nothing. I have heard the ones who feel weak attempt revenge on themselves. I am done. I am a golden nun. I believe in it all and have seen it come true. I have been tied down to beds for pain and pleasure. I have driven my masters mad. I am alive and I have played dead. This is my personal apocalypse. I have seen the bravest ones create cults and try hard not to kill them. I have seen the beautiful destroy it all and play the villain. I have created so much art the ink stains are like my lost children. My dream is now. I have wept over Van Gogh and it is not enough. I have stared so hard at Monet and Rothko you'd think my heart could never let go. I have run and turned the cards at midnight naked in the emptiness. This is my dream come true. I am the thing which I have become in secret. I am home though I wish for greater...what...hearts and minds to speak to. My fingers hurt from creating. My heart is a full cup. The old masters have taught me the old ways. The youth has shown me how to modernize and I have become a winged creature. Blow harder my dears. Blow harder.
I am Josalisa and this is a RiOt
Ceux qui marchent entre nous viennent en rêves les plus profonds.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
This is the thing that wakes me. From the oh so sweet slumber of a warm bed. This is that which bothers me and will not let me sleep. That and I had to pee just now. The think positive crowd have to be the most annoying set of creatures to walk the Earth. Yes Dear Readers, this is one of those rants where everything is brought into question. Really what is is to think positive? I keep feeling like this is really an uniquely American idea. Looking on the bright side of life and ignoring all that sits right in front of you. Sometimes I feel like we are all one step away from suicide but we smile and try to get over it. Now me I fail at dying, so I get up everyday and do the living. It works out just fine. But much like the Instagram photo is a bastardization of actual photography, the think possessive movement is destroying actual living conversation. No one ever wants to face anything. Or that is wrong, facing things or not is no choice. But real discussion has been abandoned for the it gets better crowd. Isn't this why people drown themselves in drugs and alcohol or pack themselves into night clubs full of strangers who can't see or feel from all the makeup and Molly that has been popped? I really need a Russian right now. In Russia there is a saying, I'm not going to tell it to you in Russian. However here it is in English. "Life is hard right now, but what are you going to do?" There is the truth of it all. We all want it all to look a certain way. Like the Los Angeles pretenders who glamorize this shit hole that I desperately want to leave. But look at that. Even that is bullshit. Who wants to leave a place but stays? You know what happens when one stays in a place they should have left a long time ago? When the very first of my personal artistic caravans headed East in hopes of...well anything really. What happens to the fearful who stay? It's fucking decay. I feel and smell decay. I believe it makes me a better writer, but it is not doing a damn thing for my artwork.
Have you ever been attacked by nothing and then you finally realize it is yourself? I can not be among so many and feel so separate. Mainly because we are all being so positive. But get a drink in you and the tears flow. I put all my pain on paper or pound it into a keyboard. So by the time the light of day actually shows up I do feel a ting of positivity. But Dear Reader, I thirst for something bigger than all of this. I hunger to smell new smells and to run free. I never really feel free. Like I have felt a bit of freedom alone on the mic somewhere, but not real freedom the way I dream. I am in the business of turning what I see on the inside to that which is tangible. I live in the same city of many of the great writers. I feel the burden of their past upon me even now. That is what keeps me going. They are alive in little rooms typing away at great works, or sitting somewhere reminiscing about how it was all going to be so beautiful. I'm not really into too many positive writers. So what the hell are so many of them doing on the Best Sellers List? Who the fuck put them there? The think positive crowd that is who. You blind bitter bastards, the lot.
It's not even really the Best Sellers List that bothers me. But yes it is. You see there are virtually no real bookstores left so we have no Men and Women on the from lines of literature. Telling people what to buy are at the very least pointing them in the right direction. So pretty much everyone is left to there own devices which leaves us as a culture utterly fucked. So you have Adults reading novels from the Young Adults section, people reading way too many self help or pseudo spiritual books, and then there are the Graphic Novels. I love Graphic Novels. Like I can't even begin to not love graphic novels but still, read a book every once and while people. The poor pathetic Graphic Novels. You know the thing most movies are made of these days. I won't get started on the state of American Cinema in this post because well. American Cinema at one point was created in the bookstore, or other gathering places of intellect. Which seem obsolete now, so we have a entire nation packing into cinemas to see cartoons or things based on Graphic Novels. Or books that are not very good but no one is around to stop any of it from happening. What ever happened to the bitter screen writers? They were replaced with lazy fucks who hope to become rich and famous and who will read any crap and turn it into a film. Re-invited Biographies are the norm here and I won't even get started.
So what is a writer to do? Sit among her peers and absorbed the beauty that is the craft. Look bitterly out into the city by the sea and wonder is it the pot or the juice that makes everyone step over the bums and smile? You see they are looking on the bright side of the homeless epidemic. Or is it really a shared delusion? One that can not be ended because we are in a spiritual time and intellectualism is not the norm. Truth has become really subjective. Most people live in relationships that are lies. I live in one full of truth. A truth that even I don't always say. Togetherness is the norm and separation is a illusion. All we really have on this rock are each other and the animals. So be kind. That does not mean be positive. Positivity leads to fascism really. Mainly because you have to only look at the good things. Ignore the sick and the old or the poor (especially if you are one of them) and the dying and just smile and take another hit, or drink, or pill or change the fucking channel for God's sake. Don't even get me started on God. But I am trying. I believe things can be better and also accepted. How bad is it really? What if you asked a stranger how her day was and she just looked at you and broke down? Just told you every truth without holding back? What if you just stood in the middle of it all and gave her a minute to let the real tears flow? Standing there among it all hugging a strangers in real tears. Well it happens to me all of the time. Maybe I just have one of those I can take your heart faces. Maybe I am always on the verge of jumping off of something high and the whole world knows it. But the real truth is I don't want to die. I want to fly. Now ain't that a conundrum.
This is Josalisa and you have just experienced a RiOt.