amidst the decaying, black soil, a daisy
Blooms
neither a figment of one's imagination, nor abrasively prominent,
it sits quietly
Hope
defiant amongst the encumbering pain
a lone promise unyieldingly rooted

Do you ever feel as though the reality in which you live is just a  fragment of an imagination from another life...?
                                                                       My feelings drenched in watered-down alcohol...
             Burning my scars and soothing my mind simultaneously...
                                  The muzzle kept firmly, abrasively over my entire body -
     Lending my limbs just a numbness sensation,
                                               Causing the feelings I have to be morphed into an alternate state...
The things I want to be able to say...
                                                            to do...
               Are nothing more than just dreams I see...
                                     A dream in which I guess I no longer should dream for me...

"Life is all about choices."

But I don't recall choosing
The struggles I've had to fight to remain moving and breathing,
The rough path I have no choice but to keep walking,
Or the situations of which I've dealt with
Some I was born into
I don't remember ever being given the option
To choose

Coming home from school, to a household that automatically changes your mood
Forget living, let's call it existing
It's all that's being done under this roof
And it **** sure couldn't be compared to any thing resembling a choice
It's rope and a guilted conscience
That keep me bound to this place that raised me
Fighting against the knots tied abrasively around my feet      
Only to be overwhelmed with remorse
At even having thought about leaving
And unknowingly, I strengthen their hold

Life, once again, making choices on its own  

They never tell you it'll be easy
So caught up in dramatizing the difficulty of the journey
It's forgotten how easy it is to give up
How easy it is to judge
Constantly looked down upon for things out of my hands
But the number of misdealt cards in the past doesn't control future bets
It just strengthens the desire to win

And that, Life
Is my choice

I've never wanted to roll over and die though I admit there're been mornings I rolled over and cried at the thought of ever getting up again
But I did
Low as rock bottom on the ocean floor but refusing to be swept away with the tide
I stopped living in pointing blame on trivial irrelevant things
And slowly broke the chip off my shoulder that was a mile wide
Though sometimes I still feel it's phantom weight
Taunting me about the things I cant
change
And I never had the choice
I couldn't pick where I came from, how I was raised, who raised me, I can't control the missed opportunities my upbringing has denied me, or the battle scars my past gave me
But finally living instead of existing?

That is my choice.

Weeds that grow, wind to and fro
We cannot let them go,
I can not let them go.

Abrasively dismayed
By the ones, with whom she played.

Winding up a glaze,
To cover eyes at which you gaze.

Melting forests, tied with old
Thoughts and feelings, poured the mold,
Upon which hardships now behold.

Carry on your storm,
For it is why the sky was born.

Thank you
for removing yourself
from my day to day Life.

I can't say I would have made that choice, but
I'm sure ******* glad I now don't have to;
I'm sure ******* glad to have my headspace back.


This isn't an attack;
it's a sigh of relief
on some levels.

This isn't surrender;
it's a work in progress
on some levels.

This isn't excommunication;
it's a period of change
on lots of levels.

I'm sure you can understand that.

It takes me Time to come to terms with the things I find within my Mind;
it doesn't help that a lot of Entropy has been introduced;
pardon me for taking my sweet-*** Time.

I know I can express myself abrasively,
but, you see,
Life is abrasive.

I find
abrasive expression itself
can be cathartic, when
existence itself
is abrasive.

This isn't an attack,
this isn't surrender,
this isn't excommunication,
this is a period of renewal and growth;

moving onward
moving forward
moving upward
moving inward

all at once.

I hope you can understand;
I, myself, tend to forget,
believe it or not.

this is fairly long and has ****** content*

I awaken in a dark room
Moving, I realize I am bound
WHAT THE ****!!!!! ( screams in my head)
I struggle, realizing freedom is not forthcoming

A gag soaked with saliva blocks the voice
what is going on
last memory is of friends at a fetish event
Thinking of everyone there trying to remember
Anyone that might have turned on the red signal

All were in masks
None seemed out of place
How did I wind up here
where the hell IS here?"
Wiggling fingers that send angry pin needles
Through the arms

Knowing it has been awhile since these bonds were done
People at the event were friends
Headaches like it had been drugged or hit
Thoughts run through my head, like buffalo on olden day prairies
What is going on?

Praying someone will miss me
Doubting that as I am known as the loner
Ice kitten  the name that described me best
Especially with interpersonal relationships
**** me who would do this?"

Deep cleansing breaths He used to say
Concentrating on One from the past to try and calm myself
Heartbeat pounding against the rough rope
Surrounding very ample ivory globes
Though by now the rose blushed tips upon white would be a cyanide blue

The door slams open hitting the wall
Cleansing breath almost chokes me
Deep baritone says I see you are awake ****
Mumbling loudly against the gag
Tingles roar throughout my body

Air whispers across me
Realizing that flesh is exposed to God only knew who
Further enraging the senses, I begin struggling anew
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Sound reaches my ears before.....
"OHH ******* hell" I scream out (although only I understood the words)
Fire slices across my ***
The wind kisses it as liquid trickles down the crack of the ivory half moons

Breathe girl Breathe
I keep that mantra going
Still trying to figure this out
Black lines streak my face
Lightning still touches my ***

Large fingers pinch the striped part of bleeding skin
Nose stopped up from crying as each breath is labored
Body squirms as the hand massages the heat
That baritone voice strikes a chord deep in my belly
His words are not heard at first which elicits a slap to the exposed thigh

******* in air causes a weird snapping sound
The hair on arms stands as he repeats the missed words
"Are you a good **** or a bad one?".
Go to hell is the first response that spits against the gag
Tsk tsk tsk he responds, the tone sending spirals of heat
radiating out from the belly

Something in His voice awakens the submissive fire that has lain dormant since the One left
That wretched gag is finally removed
Gulping in as much air as I can
Praying that cloth will stay free
Though the power of sight is still deprived

"Who are you?  What do you want with me?  How di
Large hand suddenly yanks hard upon long tresses of flame
Silencing my questions quickly
The voice that reverberates through the bound flesh states in a hushed tone
" If there is something I wish for you to know it will be so."
"If you understand nod your head"
Barely nodding as hair was still caught in a vise grip

Thoughts and feelings scream through my mind
Wanting out of here my mind screams as my body betrays the protest, the racing heart, panting breath, as well as the moisture building between swollen petals
What was I to do?  The more he spoke the wetter I became

Clanking sounds fill the air as the ropes are attached to a chain, I feel binds cinching tighter in places and loosening in others.  Fire roars throughout as blood surges and circulates
Moans escape chapped lips a new fear coursing within
Cringing as I await for the next reminder I have done something that displeases Him

The roughness of rope glides abrasively as more flesh is revealed.  Crying out as needles stab where blood returns
Teeth sink hard into plump lower lip biting back any noises
His hand touches my face gently
Jerking away reactively, regret releases a tear then another

The same gentle touch turns severe as something cold snaps down on the taut ******

Tasting blood as once again I try to block any noise from escaping my lips, again another snap comes down against
the other ******,
Back arches as sounds of pain escape
Every muscle draws tight waiting for his displeasure to be made clear

His voice coos a soft deep tone in the ear
Gasping as warmth spirals outward through my body
Arms pulled high above crimson curls
Secured as a squeak sounds as curves are stretched
First one foot then the other is separated and captured
The leather closes around each ankle

"I asked you earlier are you a good **** or bad?"
Mind reels as his voice sends waves of heat through me
Afraid to speak I wait, barely breathing
Sudden pressure then pain fills throbbing *******
Crying out "Good, I am good Sir!"
Something wet and cold surrounds both burning *******
The pressure releases

"Yes yes I know you are a good girl"
My lips form the words but my mind shuts down that action fast.  
"I bet you wonder why and how you came to be here?"
Nodding elicits a "good girl, I see you are learning quickly."
"This pleases me that you have not forgotten"

My mind searches the voice, the smell, and mannerisms
Something familiar but what
Hands suddenly seem to touch everywhere at once
Soft mews fill the air
His hands play my body like they belong
Fear gone chased by pain mixed with pleasure

Strips of leather kiss the arched back
Over and over, every millimeter of flesh is struck
Hands pull tight upon restraints
Air caresses moisture drenched thighs
Another implement of leather begins to alternate with the first

Pounding skin leaving behind red streaks of heat
Mind reeling at the intensity
Never having felt this before, or have I?
Tears soak flushed cheeks
The whistle of the flogger being flicked just before striking
Knees buckle throwing weight on shackled arms

No longer does the ability to reason exist
Only the moment
My body singing to the Flogger's tune
Most people would not understand this feeling
Driving upward from deep within
Each strike pushing higher

Perspiration covered hair stuck to my face and neck
Seems like this has gone on forever
Pressure building, body burning
Yearning for that pinnacle
Fear replaced by need
Thoughts replaced by desire

The tails touch grows harder, less rest between
Bursts of breath catch in my lungs
Suddenly all is still
Right at the edge of exploding
Nothing, except pounding in my head
Throbbing **** and electric fire all over

"You will *** for Me ****!"
His voice out of nowhere makes me jump
Resending exquisite pleasure mixed with something
hotter,
"Yye yes S ssSir" seems to trip from someone else's lips
One fluid motion so fast

Hands fall from above fiery curls
A firmness is pressed against my abdomen
Hair flows down as blood rushes into cheeks
No time to come down from the licking flames
His hand cups the curve of my ***
Jumping away from the hand seems like a sucker punch to my stomach

Smack! Smack! Smack!
Repeats over and over
Hips jump left then right, up then down
The heat roars through the half moons
His breathing is labored
Seeing the crimson color wash away Lilly white
Writhing beneath His hand

I hear screaming, pathetic cries
Release building as moisture becomes running wetness
Nothing coherent any longer
Just flames of heat and need
Fingers invade my soaked petals
Quickly gripping my swollen pearl
Squeezing and twisting as one word makes it through the chaos
"***!"

Reason be gone I did
Harder than ever in a very long time
Letting go of the frigidness
All the anger, tension, sadness
Spiraling out with that release
Bucking against His hand, the bench beneath me
Hoarse screams fill my ears
Still unable to figure whose

He squeezes and releases the pearl over and over
Each time striking my core
Body juices flow like water down my thighs
Tears follow down my cheeks as lips taste the salt
I feel His fingers release my ****
Gasping for air to fill my lung
Exhaling harshly as His jeans push against my raw ***

Muscles tremble as I realize it was my screams
My hoarse voice, blushing as the entire situation unfolds
Nothing left, emotions spent, strength sapped
His body pressing into mine as fingers pull the blindfold free
Unable to see Him still
He pulls my hair up and emerald greens catch a glimpse
"Oh my God!"  Trembles begin anew as flesh aches
"It can't be." I begin to struggle

Every move drags materials over raw skin
He waits for everything to catch up
Turning me over, bound hand press against His chest
Eyes still closed denying sight of what is truth
Arms of steel lift me up, flushed skin marries a cool sheet
That gentle touch returns to cup my face, thumb pushes away the tears

Opening my eyes, finally meeting His grey ones
A million questions bounce around my brain
Soothing voice says "in due time Mine in due time"
The One was back, why, how and all the other questions had to wait, for now He was back
Feeling the warmth of His fingers massaging lotion into my skin, each mark rubbed well

A loving kiss placed to my lips
My body covered in a cocoon of comfort
He was back
My world was right again
Eyes closed as I drift off to sleep
Last thoughts praying this was real and not a dream
An exquisite dream it would be but needing it to be real

Leaving you all to ponder if when I awaken
Is He with me?
Or
Did I dream a wicked night of delight?


Written by Jennifer Humphrey. All rights reserved

I am abrasively myself forever and always
I come off as an awkward, perverted, introverted lady
I tend to overthink everything anyone ever says to me
I am heavily affected by things other people aren’t
I put deep meanings on things I shouldn’t
I believe every word of my horoscope to give myself a little hope for the day
I cling to my remaining friends with all of my strength because I am already lonely enough
I am a hopeless romantic but pretend I’m not cause I gotta keep up my reputation
I have a reputation for being hard to talk to but easy to get into
I want someone to love me so sometimes I believe if they get into me they’ll love me then
I know that is a stupid idea but I just can’t help thinking it because its called making love right
I get angry very quickly if people don’t reciprocate my friendship at the same level I give it
I tend to ride a tidal wave called depression that has its ups and downs
I plead with my head every day that I don’t go under and drown
I hate hurting someone’s feelings even if by accident I will never forgive myself
I don’t care if you hurt my feelings at all I have my walls built up so don’t worry
I have compassion flying out of my chest for even the most spoiled rotten people
I will take a bullet for a stranger if given the chance because they deserve to live
I don’t know if I deserve to live though sometimes I truly wonder
I still miss the people whose friendships I have lost even if it was years ago
I believe every human being is good despite their obliviousness and their selfishness
I do my best to help my single mother even when she doesn’t see it
I love my little sister like my own child and I take care of her like it
I have passion for everything I do from my job to just being in school
I grew up way too fast and I get angry because no one can understand how I think
I guess its because I have no father and try to take care of my mother and myself
I think I may be one of the only kids who do that
I was not born into a wealthy family my mother is a grocer and my father was a jeweler
I have more pride for my parents than kids whose parents are CEO’s and business people
I believe I have learned more about being a good person than people who are handed it all
I would rather die than do nothing with my life
I could never live with myself if I didn’t put others before me
And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Someone once asked me how I knew I loved him,
and it really took me back because
I knew I loved him when I stopped doubting
and questioning.
I knew I loved him when I didn't have to ask for
someone else's perspective
to compare it to mine.

Nowadays we become So Obsessed
with wondering
that we forget to let nature take its course.

We want to feel love so badly that
we ignore everything that reassures us.


I knew that I loved him when
he himself was more important
than wondering.

I knew I loved him when
he made me feel it so abrasively
and smoothly
at the same time.
Breezy

Don't get me wrong, though.
Falling in love can be
exhausting
confusing
and terrifying.

But
when you are in sense with yourself
you just

**know.

My pen is always free
To find
When most sublime
My mind
Is still so bound
By rhyme
Each word and sound
Left undefined
By rhyme
I find
Abrasively
Will grind
In teeth
Distastefully
Bequeath
Each line
That chimes
Pervasively
In ears
And fears
Begrime
Invasively
My head
To dread
Implacably
This crime
Of rhyme
As if it were a wrinkle
In the fabric
Of all time

It always starts with the  looking of  bouquets of dying flowers in the grocery store
they're always by the entrance and they're always wrapped in cellophane
Moody lilies, doe-eyed star daffodils, ******* lace-leaves
My grandfather's name was Hyacinth
It's symbolic somewhere, somehow
My family's name is buried neck deep in floral epithets
not that you would notice or care
There's an attraction to be named after beautiful things
From the side of my shoulder I hear
count your hands, they might be missing fingers
I look abrasively counting in rotund continuity
one two three four five
one two three four five
when I look behind me the speaker blasts John Mayer and I go home feeling nauseous
manic begonias, sultry sweet-tooth hydrangeas
you pick a rose and it stabs your finger so you set it on fire and take a picture of it, you call it art and the leaves wither
when I sit at my dinner table eating salmon
I cannot stop thinking about mercury poisoning
I lick the table salt off my hands
I wait for cardiac arrest but while that happens
there is that friend of a foe, that voice tickling the back of my ear with it's summer tongue
telling me, beckoning that the tap water I'm drinking is laced with LSD by the government and that I'm going to have a bad trip that I won't be able to get out of. I'll be stuck in that endless loop like a record player that keeps getting scratched by the needle and won't play anything but static noise now.
I go to bed biting my nails until they're raw and touching skin making sure that my hands are still my own
Moonflowers bloom at night and marigolds remind me of the sun
In the morning I dream of driving out to sea in a car that doesn't belong to me and wait for the coral to overtake my brain
When I wake up I do 20 laps around my house instead

at least five natural phenomenon
sit within every strand of your iris.

the thrashing ocean or the
roaring skies alone aren't
enough to describe the
passion within your gaze.

the brims of absolute chaos
brush against each other abrasively,
and while the rest of the world
gapes in awe of such a rare occurrence,
you take no notice to it because
it happens every tenth of a second
within the blink of your kaleidoscope  eyes.

just the simplest aspects of you
are unfathomable to me,
i could study your very existence for hours
and still be in total and complete admiration.

your exterior provides even the
least curious individual an urge for inquiry.
i may never fully decipher you,
but that's the very joy in your presence.
i never know what alcove of
your beautiful soul i'll wander into next.

n.h.

I am my own worst enemy
I could be my own best friend
but this
extrinsic obnoxious extrovert
just won't see the truth
and yet
he takes up for me
the unworthy harrier

We both think the other foolish
but I the wiser!
undying optimism
fades as reality sinks in
so I settle
for the sake of safety
in pessimism

No one sees the real me
the few who have
explained
just how abrasively
I oxidize their good humor
and so
the kid lives on
smiling
and I behind
wondering if my hidden prison
has made me...

A sickness rises from my stomach
Through my chest, into my throat, making a mess of me
(i refuse to let it spill from my mouth)
Sometimes it’s all i can feel
It becomes a comfort, and one of many fears
I am distressed that i may be obvious, pesky, and ignored
But my heart fell from my sleeve long ago
And my own feet tread over it.
Silence burns in my throat and compresses my chest
Words that refuse to be said haunt my thoughts
The ringing in my ears is ever-present;
Nothing is loud enough, and silence too often deafens me
Harshness radiates from me, unwanted, but always lingering
My existence is much too clumsy.
My vanity vies for attention (and is abrasively rebuked by heart and mind)
Heart and mind are always at war, united only against me
Laughing used to help,
But it’s not that funny anymore
It hurts.
I don’t like being sick
(but i don’t try to get better).

I often blame myself

for the iniquity of others.

If they had abrasively grazed

the fragile strings which hold me together

then it is because I, and only I

have given them the thought

that wounds do heal in the end

but scars are often invisible

and I am still hurting.

I yearn to love  
  
                                f l u i d l y,
          
yet I love so;
                    *abrasively

I’m aching
borderline pinching with the shakes
Abrasively I’m dialing
Itchy skin fingers toy with fine dining

What do you know about blame?
And do you always think you’re definitely in love this time?

-


it was working towards me
in tiny increments with this
unusually adamant
determination

loop-scooting itself across a
hot gravel desert populated
by abrasively inert killers

scraping off bits of itself
in detail along the way

i gave it a lift—

it rolled into a tight ball,
relaxed and then died
in my hand

its last act, a lamenting as if
i had denied it some chosen
final resting place

leaving me holding
this barometer

for measuring the spaces
between those less than
lofty of goals in the better
part of my years...



s jones
2021


.

ectoplasmic, echoing

fibers vibrate delicately, glossily,
held with tension and
******* with pearls.

powders exploding casually from
plucked strings

she inspects, with milk fingers,
that night’s catch.

in sea-spun, spider silks,
there linger tiny ***** made of
star sand, composing tiny symphonies,
bellies dragging ‘cross cornfields,
scratching still silhouettes,
notes in Solfeggio:
ink-black eighth notes
sprawling softly on
measured bars.

the chorus of silent whispers
crescendos and crashes down,
splashing salty poolwater
on silk screen paper.

damply, she lets spools spill
from her cream fingers,
inspecting knots in which
cracked fragments of silver passages
flutter.

one is plucked abrasively,
and it melts into her *******,
threatening spillage from
finger creases like hot mercury.

one gleams and she tentatively,
reflexively presses it with her pointer,
prodding it before she is
breathed in in in in and
suctioned through.

what does this passage speak?

charming crickets
flaky knees rubbed

the reverberation of hums
explodes in little hearts,
windowpanes
smashing and shattering,
billions of glistening pieces
embedded in tiny lungs,
orbiting galactically
like bellicose comets.

a hair stands up
and she breathes in,
one huge breath.

honey coats her lungs,
quick as lavender,
and
the bluntness of her teeth
deny endlessly the soft,
glowing warmth spreading
through her veins like liquid gold.

cocoa in her breath and
dusty icicles in her lashes

it was a tremendously satisfying catch,
that night’s catch.

The last week was miserable, both in school and at home. I'm here again. So soon it's autumn. The trees are red, some pink and brown. Their dried leaves have fallen on the sod and the atmosphere seems solemn. The air is lazy and induces a drowsy mood in me. I look at the sky between the tall trees and it's grey. The clouds seem motionless. But the water is limpid and still inviting in contrast to the general languor.

I've chosen a comfortable shade to sit under and taken a deep breath.
The scenes of last week are dawning on me. The HM called me to his office and said rather abrasively. You want to be a poet and writer. You are really stupid. This is the age of science and medicine, of engineering, technology and architecture...You won't be able to get a job even with an A in English and why bother to study Latin? You'll regret. The world has enough failed writers....

What if he were right?

That evening after dinner I overheard dad saying to mum. We can't afford a uni education for Ming. He must be able to get a scholarship but I worry as he's poor in math and science. Writes too much poetry. This won't do him much good and he would be behind his peers....

I worried for the next two days and slept badly waking up with nightmares.

( to c' nue)

She was safe
on the days she gave the panacea of invisibility for her mothers nostalgic melancholy
and her fathers scalding vitriol.
They were happy
on days that she pushed her abrasively cheerful spirit all the way down
to the place in herself where the too loud things were sent to be ignored.
She was respected
In the moments she feigned premature maturity,
played dress up as the defeated adult version of herself
and sat quietly joyless at the table of the honoured sombre.

Survival for the girl
Became defeat for the woman

The love she sought by becoming the elixir for the woes of those she loved, became the guillotine where reciprocity went to die.