You can hear the alarm bells,
See the red flags.
You know this will ruin you,
And you walk in with eyes wide open
Nonetheless.

You try to justify it to the world,
To yourself.
It's the end of the road;
a sense of belonging, finally,
of having a purpose,
and you're tired.
So tired of wandering, searching,
Hoping.
Choking on the salt in the air, the sea an endless barren desert with no land in sight.
So when you hear the siren's call,
And you know it spells doom,
You answer it anyway.
At least it will be over.

Except it's not death you're heading towards, but not a life either,
You'd be called crazy
If there were anyone around.

You're tired, and this feels safe,
To fall sleep in a dungeon,
To drop your heavy defenses.
It's hard work keeping them up,
And you're tired.

There's no room for mistakes in chains.
Your hands can't move to sin.
You're clean, and good;
Your mind is light, free from worry
And planning.

Your eyes fall shut.
You don't dream.

Put it in a box and tell it you’re mine
Chain it up tight and tell it it’s fine
Make it wait. Make it shake.
Make it quiver. Make it quake.

Keep it dark. Full of despair.
Make it gasp for every breath of air.

Tell it don’t you dare —
Move and it might just tear.

Maybe even share
for a faire

to dress it up, dress it down
Make it smile, make it frown

With metal spikes to keep it still
Easy to use, ready to fill.
Into the morning and through the night
It should know better than to put up a fight.

12/28

I dream of leathered men, I dream of you, touching me, ******* me, loving me.
Hold me in your clutch, dominate me, make me yours.
Your voice like velvet, and your body like diamond.
Cut me, mark me, I am your canvas.
I am your art.
The cruelest artist with a delicate touch.
I beg of you.
I whimper in pleasure.
More please.
"Be a good boy for me" "yes sir" on my knees. Complete submission.
Take me to space.
Make me forget all that came before you.

we've been playing for months, yet
i am no longer the master of my own game.
i sit and wonder, "how did i get here?"
without ever truly questioning myself.
simply because i knew.
it is as though I am currently without a name.
considerably since "This" is no longer Me.
who I am, who That is,
                I am no longer certain.
I have simply become a replica of Its impression on Self.
      "tick tock, tick, tock."
the arrogance of time refuses to stop,
and "now" becomes a fleeting "then"
as My life slips through "Her"
into a dazed, drunken phase.
time only lingers in the present
for those who are truly Present.
Her time is lost, so what is My time
when the days blur together?
"Her" memory sanitized and wiped cleaned.
***** cleans wounds, right?
Dissociation to self,  the insouciant desire to care.
an erratic, chaotic, tumultuous torrential downpour.
I'm theatrical sure, but passionately so.
"Passion," i'll drink to that.
                   "Pain" has me pouring another,
                                                    and another.
"Reward me," and we'll cheers to the clear liquid that
warms my throat with each increasing gulp.
"Relax." you worked hard, take one or two.
              Six deep, Seven's the magic number,
                          plus, what's one more?

yet one will never be enough.    "sleep or shoot."
            
                            don't forget to swallow.
                            you know you love it.

stop saying no when You can say "yes,"
and stop holding back, when I'm telling You "NO."

                         stop fighting...
                                                ...su­ccumb to the misery.
  
 besides, just one pour will make it all better.

it’s confusing to me
and maybe this is where
the grooming,
psychological abusing
comes from.
i’m used and discarded,
tossed into the recycling bin
until i’m reused again.
and again.
every time making me
a little weaker
than the time before.
a little less able to refuse.
a little easier to bend,
to break.
the lack of permanency
in the place i long for,
the place in which
i never got to stay for long,
only to be hauled away and
returned upon further notice.

succumb to your desires,
your Lilith.
succumb to me,
and all my little games.
release your inner darkness
and dance around our paradise
with lack of accountability
or morality.
surrender to lust,
crawl to me, you’re at my use.
my leisure.
now fix your smeared lipstick,
so i can ruin you again.
you are my favorite game,
and we’re just getting started.