What do you see …
When you close your eyes …
Is it this same universe …
Endless eternities …
Stars that burn a hole in the heart …
From the heat of a cool night sky …
What does lie beyond …
Behind each well of light …
Each tiny beacon …
So much larger in its reality …
Than in its seeming substance …
See what I see …
See clear …
See fire …
See flames …
See conscience consumed …
Let reluctance retreat …
And restraint be restrained …
See my one and true obsession …
Look on this endless sky …
We all have shared …
And in that eternal emptiness …
Find forever …
With me …

What do you see …
When you close your eyes …


Is it this same universe …
Endless eternities …
Stars that burn a hole in the heart …
From the heat of a cool night sky …


What does lie beyond …
Behind each well of light …
Each tiny beacon …
So much larger in its reality …
Than in its seeming substance …


See what I see …
See clear …


See fire …
See flames …
See conscience consumed …


Let reluctance retreat …
And restraint be restrained …


See my one and true obsession …

Look on this endless sky …
We all have shared …


And in that eternal emptiness …
Find forever …
With me …

(via missharpersworld)

Back Into The Basement
Deep breath.
The sun was shining in an early afternoon show of good intentions, but the door in front of her was plain and non-responsive. So she knocked again.
This time the sound of movement inside was clear. Followed by a call to “come in”.
Inside was dark and cool. His small entry way leading to a cosy living room. As always he stood so casually confident. Eyes sparkling some manner of mischief.
"So come in then", he said. It sounded amused with an edge of impatience. Traffic had made her slightly later than expected.
She blurted out her apologies and explanation; to which he merely smiled. And then it was just arms wrapping around. Those confident hands thick in her hair.
Buried in his lower chest she could always hide at first. Lack of height was in its way a small advantage.
Then a first hint of difference; heightened aggression and sterner purpose.
A flurry of sharp smacks across her ass. Enough to squirm to, even as he gently kissed her.
"Come then", he said firmly, leaving her no option but to follow. Drawn forward relentlessly by that fist in her hair. Through the kitchen, down the stairs and back to that place of the crosses and benches.
She stood where he left her, feeling slightly chilled, by a high leather table built on a cage. All she had worn was a light yellow sundress, and the basement was a good deal darker and cooler than the summer air outside.
Turning her to face the table he pulled the dress up and off in one quick movement leaving her naked.
Without a word then she bent forward. Laid her face down on the cool black leather. Spread her arms high and held herself ready. She knew what would come next.
At first he merely touched. Hands moving softly over softer skin. Comfort before the storm. Though even in this she could feel his energy coiled to strike. Harder this time.
And so when it came there was no surprise; only determination.
The blows in fact were still not enough to make her cry, or even leave more than simple red marks liable to fade quite quickly.
But even so, the intent was there this time.
Feel me bitch. This is real.
So she cried out then, helpless in her reactions, as the blows reigned harder and harder. She twisted and let him feel her agony, as whips and floggers cut into the flesh of her back and legs relentlessly.
Once she even rose from the table; as the pain worked its way. The involuntary response of a wounded animal thinking only to flee for a few fleeting seconds. Until the will to stand returned, and she laid back down breathing hard.
But she didn’t flinch. Even as her mind began to think “God what more”, she stiffened to take whatever would come.
Feel me right back. This is very real.
In a way he was teaching her something new. But it was also familiar territory. Nothing more than a physical expression of a well worn path she already knew too well.
Take it all bitch. I demand nothing less than all.
Such a challenge could never be answered with anything less than the same stern audacity. Watch me my love. This is courage. This will of mine will be yours entire. Just watch me.
Other things they did together that day. Soft caresses and adoration. Followed by an unforgiving violation. All enjoyed with equal abandon.
Then simple conversation. The basement become just an ordinary room again. A soft couch and time to talk.
Lessons learned and the boundaries of life pushed out just that much farther. To go who knows where from here.
Yes other things they did and said that day. But the real drama was in those darker moments. In that passion play of pain and pleasure. In that place of connection.
So was her body made his. And with it her trust. Even as her Master had taught her. So well.
Where inspiration leads she shall always follow. Just as he told her to.
And there was the real obedience of course. As it still is. As it always shall be.
Though she bonds in truth and honesty, her soul a wandering spirit always, bent on love wherever she might find it and give it. Still there is only one home she shall ever truly know. From this day forward.
I should surely know. You must see she is just myself.
And so this truth I tell you.
There is only one place of final rest that ever comforts me.
At the feet of the man I serve before all. The one that set me free. High-res

Back Into The Basement

Deep breath.

The sun was shining in an early afternoon show of good intentions, but the door in front of her was plain and non-responsive. So she knocked again.

This time the sound of movement inside was clear. Followed by a call to “come in”.

Inside was dark and cool. His small entry way leading to a cosy living room. As always he stood so casually confident. Eyes sparkling some manner of mischief.

"So come in then", he said. It sounded amused with an edge of impatience. Traffic had made her slightly later than expected.

She blurted out her apologies and explanation; to which he merely smiled. And then it was just arms wrapping around. Those confident hands thick in her hair.

Buried in his lower chest she could always hide at first. Lack of height was in its way a small advantage.

Then a first hint of difference; heightened aggression and sterner purpose.

A flurry of sharp smacks across her ass. Enough to squirm to, even as he gently kissed her.

"Come then", he said firmly, leaving her no option but to follow. Drawn forward relentlessly by that fist in her hair. Through the kitchen, down the stairs and back to that place of the crosses and benches.

She stood where he left her, feeling slightly chilled, by a high leather table built on a cage. All she had worn was a light yellow sundress, and the basement was a good deal darker and cooler than the summer air outside.

Turning her to face the table he pulled the dress up and off in one quick movement leaving her naked.

Without a word then she bent forward. Laid her face down on the cool black leather. Spread her arms high and held herself ready. She knew what would come next.

At first he merely touched. Hands moving softly over softer skin. Comfort before the storm. Though even in this she could feel his energy coiled to strike. Harder this time.

And so when it came there was no surprise; only determination.

The blows in fact were still not enough to make her cry, or even leave more than simple red marks liable to fade quite quickly.

But even so, the intent was there this time.

Feel me bitch. This is real.

So she cried out then, helpless in her reactions, as the blows reigned harder and harder. She twisted and let him feel her agony, as whips and floggers cut into the flesh of her back and legs relentlessly.

Once she even rose from the table; as the pain worked its way. The involuntary response of a wounded animal thinking only to flee for a few fleeting seconds. Until the will to stand returned, and she laid back down breathing hard.

But she didn’t flinch. Even as her mind began to think “God what more”, she stiffened to take whatever would come.

Feel me right back. This is very real.

In a way he was teaching her something new. But it was also familiar territory. Nothing more than a physical expression of a well worn path she already knew too well.

Take it all bitch. I demand nothing less than all.

Such a challenge could never be answered with anything less than the same stern audacity. Watch me my love. This is courage. This will of mine will be yours entire. Just watch me.

Other things they did together that day. Soft caresses and adoration. Followed by an unforgiving violation. All enjoyed with equal abandon.

Then simple conversation. The basement become just an ordinary room again. A soft couch and time to talk.

Lessons learned and the boundaries of life pushed out just that much farther. To go who knows where from here.

Yes other things they did and said that day. But the real drama was in those darker moments. In that passion play of pain and pleasure. In that place of connection.

So was her body made his. And with it her trust. Even as her Master had taught her. So well.

Where inspiration leads she shall always follow. Just as he told her to.

And there was the real obedience of course. As it still is. As it always shall be.

Though she bonds in truth and honesty, her soul a wandering spirit always, bent on love wherever she might find it and give it. Still there is only one home she shall ever truly know. From this day forward.

I should surely know. You must see she is just myself.

And so this truth I tell you.

There is only one place of final rest that ever comforts me.

At the feet of the man I serve before all. The one that set me free.

(via her-master)

Ego

In every conscious thought …
There is a self serving purpose …
As there must be …
Fight or flight …


Who shall care for me …
If I can’t first care for myself …


This is ego …
In a positive light …
A soul’s first line of defense and integrity …
And also its last …


Who shall care for me …

But then comes trust …
If it will …


The point where ego has served its purpose …
And steps away …
In a willing leap …
Into oblivion …


So I shall lay down …
In a conscious moment …
To unconscious surrender …
To find what waits for us there …


So I have lain down …
It is always remembered …
The bliss of that touch is never forgotten …


And how it emptied all …

Where is ego now my love …
I cannot need it more …
As grace walks softly …


Where is ego now my love …
Where has it gone …
But wandering …


Nothing is ever lost …
Nor ever shall be more …
We have not embraced in quiet …
All needful things found there …

(via yelloutthechords)

Where to Find It
Off in a derelict building down by the bay she finally found it. The wrong side of town made right.
His directions had been iffy to say the least. It had taken much longer to arrive than she had anticipated.
Endless detours and thoughtless distractions. Her mind stopped to see the spectacle all around. Feeling the present through a veil of perpetual past tense. 
Still she thought: vague guidance and an intermittent flow of information hadn’t helped either.
Where was he really taking her? When would they get there? How would she know they’d arrived?
Following clues to a foregone conclusion.
So now arrived and wondering; she could only stare at the bareness of the place at first. A sweaty dusty warehouse once. Now just peeling paint and rusted metal. Nails poking out of the floor like signposts screaming “beware”!
Just such a place had always haunted her dreams. And though the day was humid and warm she shivered. A little.
Dichotomy in blacks and grays. The severity of a certainty. And an invitation to abandon. 
Yet for all its hard edges and lack of obvious charm the place still felt familiar. Every door and window open. Every corner hers.
Every echo an answer to some long forgotten question.
And perfect clarity besides.
She knew he would fuck her here. As she had always dreamed. In the black and white. In shades of grey.
Stripped bare she felt the warmth of home in every empty corner. Close kin in every broken shard of glass.
Wrong turned upside down and sideways. No longer a word to use or fear; only fear now used to write new words. And encompass better deeds.
Wrong made right. Sun shining through broken windows. Reflecting off pools of standing water. Peeking through holes in walls.
Wrong made right.
And there he was at last. In a basement room. Now open to the light. Victim of some stray catastrophe. It was that hole in the floor that she looked through by which she did find him.
As fresh and new as a favourite photo. Strong features and smiling eyes.
"I missed you love", he said. "I missed you so".
That was all he said.

Where to Find It

Off in a derelict building down by the bay she finally found it. The wrong side of town made right.

His directions had been iffy to say the least. It had taken much longer to arrive than she had anticipated.

Endless detours and thoughtless distractions. Her mind stopped to see the spectacle all around. Feeling the present through a veil of perpetual past tense.

Still she thought: vague guidance and an intermittent flow of information hadn’t helped either.

Where was he really taking her? When would they get there? How would she know they’d arrived?

Following clues to a foregone conclusion.

So now arrived and wondering; she could only stare at the bareness of the place at first. A sweaty dusty warehouse once. Now just peeling paint and rusted metal. Nails poking out of the floor like signposts screaming “beware”!

Just such a place had always haunted her dreams. And though the day was humid and warm she shivered. A little.

Dichotomy in blacks and grays. The severity of a certainty. And an invitation to abandon.

Yet for all its hard edges and lack of obvious charm the place still felt familiar. Every door and window open. Every corner hers.

Every echo an answer to some long forgotten question.

And perfect clarity besides.

She knew he would fuck her here. As she had always dreamed. In the black and white. In shades of grey.

Stripped bare she felt the warmth of home in every empty corner. Close kin in every broken shard of glass.

Wrong turned upside down and sideways. No longer a word to use or fear; only fear now used to write new words. And encompass better deeds.

Wrong made right. Sun shining through broken windows. Reflecting off pools of standing water. Peeking through holes in walls.

Wrong made right.

And there he was at last. In a basement room. Now open to the light. Victim of some stray catastrophe. It was that hole in the floor that she looked through by which she did find him.

As fresh and new as a favourite photo. Strong features and smiling eyes.

"I missed you love", he said. "I missed you so".

That was all he said.

(via gforcepdx)

The ellipsis …
…
An affectation I’ve been told …
By some …
How else though to write …
What I hear …
I think in hiccups …
Every purpose has a rhythm …
Always living its music …
Dancing out onto the page …
And so I pause …
To catch each note just right …
To feel the night …
My little ellipsis …
She makes you wait …
To hear the dream …
As I do …
Divine what I tell …
In the waves I ride …
In the flow that knows all secrets …
And shares these few …
As heaven writhes its way …
From soul to soul …

The ellipsis …

An affectation I’ve been told …
By some …


How else though to write …
What I hear …


I think in hiccups …
Every purpose has a rhythm …
Always living its music …
Dancing out onto the page …


And so I pause …
To catch each note just right …
To feel the night …


My little ellipsis …
She makes you wait …
To hear the dream …
As I do …


Divine what I tell …
In the waves I ride …
In the flow that knows all secrets …
And shares these few …


As heaven writhes its way …
From soul to soul …

(via blackleatherbelt)

You hurt me …
It seemed like forever …
In that endless winter of our discontent …
Deafening silence …
With no end even hoped for …
Where did you go …
Why did you go …
I would ask and ask …
But I always knew …
It wasn’t even you so much that needed satisfaction was it …
Redemption from those ills of commission and omission …
Both real and imagined …
Weighing on my soul …
Guilt is all I’ve ever known …
And I never even knew what for …
But still I’ve been sorry …
Like a white heat burning …
And you let me say it …
Live it …
Atone for it all …
Tears running until there were no more left to come …
Always present …
Always watching …
Always there and never gone …
Always with me …
Always focused …
Still smiling at the end …
In suffering for you I cleansed every wound …
And found a cleaner heart …
Still beneath that rubble …
Still beating strong …
Take just this little bit more love …
Each edge my promise kept …
So to see the end of fear …
Take just this little bit more love …
Take some then more then all …
Until taking is done …
Take just this little bit more love …
And see nothing left but joy …

You hurt me …
It seemed like forever …
In that endless winter of our discontent …


Deafening silence …
With no end even hoped for …


Where did you go …
Why did you go …
I would ask and ask …
But I always knew …


It wasn’t even you so much that needed satisfaction was it …
Redemption from those ills of commission and omission …
Both real and imagined …
Weighing on my soul …


Guilt is all I’ve ever known …
And I never even knew what for …
But still I’ve been sorry …
Like a white heat burning …
And you let me say it …
Live it …
Atone for it all …


Tears running until there were no more left to come …

Always present …
Always watching …
Always there and never gone …


Always with me …
Always focused …
Still smiling at the end …


In suffering for you I cleansed every wound …
And found a cleaner heart …
Still beneath that rubble …
Still beating strong …


Take just this little bit more love …
Each edge my promise kept …
So to see the end of fear …


Take just this little bit more love …
Take some then more then all …
Until taking is done …


Take just this little bit more love …
And see nothing left but joy …

(via lorisweetcream)

There was a treasure she couldn’t touch …
At least mostly …
A dream she couldn’t live …
At least outwardly …
But she holds it still …
Never believe in anything with less than all you have …
Believe …
Or don’t believe at all …
Here is my treasure …
And though I can’t feel it trace my skin …
There are no curves to sweetly caress …
Except in dearest memory …
Wisdom guides me to it …
And I do believe …

There was a treasure she couldn’t touch …
At least mostly …
A dream she couldn’t live …
At least outwardly …


But she holds it still …

Never believe in anything with less than all you have …

Believe …
Or don’t believe at all …


Here is my treasure …
And though I can’t feel it trace my skin …
There are no curves to sweetly caress …
Except in dearest memory …


Wisdom guides me to it …

And I do believe …

(via crescentmoon06)

herliege:

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
to the last syllable of recorded time;
and all our yesterdays have lighted fools
the way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
and then is heard no more: it is a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.

—  William Shakespeare, Macbeth: Act V Scene

The Origins Of Prey

nectar-traps:

Maybe we forget to eat for three days.
Maybe we probe at our ribs in bathroom mirrors
and wonder how we became so sharp; so cradled
in our own hunger. Maybe we stop answering the phone;
throw out the answer machine. Maybe it rings
and the train is delayed. Rings and our mother is sick.
Rings and the job fell through again—how were we
to know. Maybe there is salt. On our tongues;
between our teeth. Track marks on our thighs.
Voices in our scurry-minds—maybe it isn’t our fault.
They scratch and it isn’t our fault. We bleed
and it isn’t our fault. Maybe we pick every scab
we see, and blame the naked wounds. Infect
and it isn’t our fault. Prolong and it isn’t our fault.
Maybe we draw the curtains in the middle of the day
and let the shadows work their chalk into our skin.
Maybe we’re afraid. Maybe we are soft. Maybe
we’re just trying to hide the thumbprints on our necks,
or worse, seduce the throttle-fists that put them there.
Maybe we are unaware. Maybe we are torn. Maybe
there’s a pack of wolves. An open, baited door.

(via notjustcookies)

Crawl into my mind …
Here is your place …
I make it safe for you …
Quid pro quo as they say …
Here is a wonderland …
Made for your wandering …
Made perfect …
Made only for you …
Just as I travel these many dark alleys …
Pictures of penance …
Written on flesh …
With you I walk deeper …
In caverns of thought …
In dreams …
In nightmares …
In truth …
So wander with me …
I will wander with you …
Out where minds touch …
Even closer than hands …
And we will be safe …
Both of us always …
As one …

Crawl into my mind …
Here is your place …
I make it safe for you …


Quid pro quo as they say …

Here is a wonderland …
Made for your wandering …
Made perfect …
Made only for you …


Just as I travel these many dark alleys …
Pictures of penance …
Written on flesh …


With you I walk deeper …
In caverns of thought …
In dreams …
In nightmares …
In truth …


So wander with me …
I will wander with you …
Out where minds touch …
Even closer than hands …


And we will be safe …
Both of us always …
As one …

(via rolledtrousers)