Wednesday, June 7, 2017

No One Tells Little Girls...

Sitting here...
what's one more night alone and on my own?
wrap broken wings around myself
sitting unwanted and saved upon the shelf.

No one tells little girls that love hurts so goddamn bad
no one tells little girls how boys with big brown eyes will rip your heart out
and dance upon your soul
holding to themselves that which could make you whole.
No one tells little girls that the boy with the beautiful eyes will feed you to his demons
leaving you with neither rhyme nor reason.

No one tells little girls what it's going to be like to be a junkyard dog covered in scars
in a world which values beauty and nice cars.
No one tells little girls that fairy tales die
and that maybe forever, always, and everything is a lie.

No one tells little girls that love will break them
that the boys with beautiful brown eyes will always be searching for something else
that the broken toys, the girls with all the scars, will never live up to the fancy cars
that love is a goddamned war
and her heart will be a traitorous fucking whore
that they'll always be too much and never enough.

No one tells little girls
that they will hand that beautiful brown eyed boy their heart on a platter
and watch it be sliced into pieces and fed to the demons
that love completely lacks in rhyme and reason.

Why doesn't anyone tell little girls that their hearts are going to be battlegrounds
fighting an eternal war when that beautiful boy doesn't come around
that no one will hear the sound
as they wrap broken dreams around themselves like wings
forever waiting for some beautiful brown eyed boy to come around?

Why don't we tell little girls that those gorgeous fucking boys with big brown eyes
who smell like smoke and taste like hope,
who dance through their dreams and change their perception of reality,
are going to make their souls bleed with need?

No one told me
that the girl I'd become would be a junkyard dog
in a world full of purebreds
waiting by the side of some gorgeous brown eyed boys bed
needing to feed a hunger that cannot be fed.

No one told me that love could be so all goddamned consuming
that I'd spend so many nights alone on my knees
knowing that I was not the one chosen to please.

No one tells little girls
that those divinely delicious boys with big brown eyes
who taste like hope and smell like smoke
will have them crawling endlessly to feed a need sated by others
and goddamn the mothers
who don't tell little girls
that they love only at their own peril.

My father knew
that I would be a junkyard dog with the heart of a whore,
little more than a casualty in loves fucked up war.
But he thought that I would inspire
lift somebody in this world up a little bit higher...

The truth is darlin, 
that I'm just a girl who dared to love as a junkyard dog does
but nobody wants to live and love in a junkyard of broken cars
that an aging little girl covered in scars, who cares not for fancy cars...
She's a dream unseen, some other kind of being
who will never belong, cursed to always long
for boys with big brown eyes
who smell like smoke
and taste like hope
but really, those beautiful brown eyed fucking boys are just the hanging rope.

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Fuck You Up or Fuck Me Down

I have seen the bottom of many bottles, worked my way through a lot of piles, 
and walked so many damn miles.
I have cradled demons in my hands and danced with lightning in the dark,
contemplating that eternal spark.

I'll fuck you up until you fuck me down
down down down, all the way into the ground.
Take a moment to look around
can you hear the weight of sound?
What was once lost has been found.

Contemplate those stormy sees
spend some time in the pouring rain on your knees
come on now
breathe into me.

Hold that space lost one,
that empty place I kept for you
in a silent room on my knees
asking only to be allowed to please.
So diligently you stand in that doorway
no other shall pass, just as you have silently asked.
Yet still you refuse to step inside the storm.

There's an empty space inside of me
I can fuck you up or you can fuck me down,
and so we go round and round
unacknowledged electricity fills the space between us
smoldering so strongly that I can barely breathe.

Can you feel me?
I am no endless sea
simply a perfect storm on her knees
whatever will you do with me?
something, anything please
fuck me down before you fuck me up.

Can you feel me like I feel you?
Back and forth we dance in the darkness
coming only close enough to spark the flames, never close enough to touch
I am never enough and always too much.

I have waited, I have waited for you
on my knees with my offerings
I let you in, fed you my sins
always a full plate awaits when you wander through that door
and you know, you know that I am a whore
for you, for him, for the deadly beauty you hold within.

So baby, fuck me up or fuck me down
and we'll go round and round
'cuz I hear your voice in my head every time I lay down in my bed
Feel your arms in my dreams
and see their reflections in your eyes when I look upon the sky.

One day you smiled at me
and I swear my heart fell into my fucking knees
and all I could think was
oh shit...This is gonna hurt like a bitch.

So baby on we go, round and round
stranger than the weight of sound
'cuz you fuck me up and fuck me down
and we are without beginning or end.

Friday, May 19, 2017

I'm Back

Aight, I decided to say fuck this shit. Bitch has taken enough of my life, I'm not gonna let her have this place too. So I'm back. Sorely lacking on the inspiration, but whatever. I can meme this shit to high heaven.



We like to wrap things up in pretty little boxes, tie them shut with decorative bows. and pretend that all the worst and most amazing things in life are neat or pretty.

They aren't. Life is fucking messy.
Life is learning that your 14 year old son hates his middle name because your sil's ex boyfriend by the same name used to beat the shit out of her in front of him when he was six. Life is finally telling your six year old to sock the neighbor kid back. Life is watching your son try not to puke in the bushes after finding a dead body on his way to school. Life is wandering through the downtrodden streets and alleyways of a city you used to hate and accepting the beauty in its broken depravity. Life is snow in fucking May.

Life. We deny how raw it really is because we rarely have the stomach for blood, and it's easier to look at the bandage.
But life is bloody and raw and beautiful. It's passionate rage and ecstasy, pleasure and pain...Life is madness and magic. If we let ourselves feel it.


Love? Love is a goddamned battleground. Yea, it's beautiful and it's fucking epic. Love will wash through your soul in an epic rain of blood and roses. And if you think it's not gonna make you bleed like nothing else ever could, you are sadly mistaken.

Love is watching your husband, on a weekly basis, go fuck the soul sucking cunt that fucked you over, and attempting to find some modicum of grace. Because it makes him happy and fits within the fucking parameters of being owned that you agreed to.

Love is having two men bitch you out about not wearing a coat when you should. It's craving the look in some goddamn lost boy's eyes when he's really listening to you, and the tone in his voice when he tells you exactly what he wants in that moment.

Love is an epic goddamned wonderland of beauty and shit.

So yea...I am no longer who I once was. But I am what I am, I am submissive to my very fucking core whether I like it or not. And that will never change, regardless of how I feel about it.

I am not what I once was, but I am what I am. And this place is still my story.



Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Nothing Left For Me Here

I'm done here. This blog has nothing left to offer me. I have learned that there is no sanctuary for some of us, no matter how much we tell ourselves there is. I hope that this place offers that sanctuary to some who come after me and read its words.

I hope that one day I shall return here and once again pour beauty out onto these pages. That day is not today, nor shall it be tomorrow.


Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Another Blogaversary...?

Most importantly, thanks to everyone who left me birthday wishes--I have not forgotten that you rock and I still need to respond to your comments.

Pretty sure that today is my blog's birthday, but in typical fashion, blogger is screwing with me, and I'll be damned if I sift through every post of 2010 to get to the first one.

Ironically, this is also the day I chose to start another blog. I think that it's not going to be a nice place, or a happy place, or a place that anyone in their right mind would like to read, but if you want the link, email me or leave a comment. The point is that the soul sucking cunt (who really needs to pull off a miracle and develop the human decency to quit reading here), doesn't read there. So it's mine. All fucking mine.

I'm not abandoning this blog. I contemplated doing so over the last months, but I won't. It holds my story, and will hold many more to come. It is just not the place for me to get all of what I need out of writing at the moment. I am...Without sanctuary, and in many instances of the present, this place no longer offers me that.

When I started this blog in 2010, I would have never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would find myself sitting where I now sit. In a city of half a million disconnected people, with a husband in love with another woman and working in a different state than the one I live in, with me loving another man who refuses to even sit in a room alone with me. And no fucking trees or rocks.
Seriously, I have learned that the mountains will accept me wherever I am. But they don't take me as theirs. It's not "home" and it never will be.

We all grew up with "magic". Every child learns the first basic protection spell as soon as they can comprehend words. Here? You're a bit crazy for even mentioning such a concept. Say, "I feel you and you're a beautiful fucking being" and you're lucky if that person ever speaks to you again without wondering how a nice fancy white straight jacket would look on you.

Recently, we "discussed" okay, fought about, the concept of removing the collar. The truth is, whether I am any good at it or not, does not change the fact that I am what I am. And we are who we are. He'll never agree to remove the collar. Ever. And I'll never have the balls to actually hand it to him and ask for release.

On the bright side, my eldest is rocking this life shit. You know those videos where sixty fucking kids stand around and record some kid getting the shit beat out of them, and MAYBE, one kid steps in for the underdog and breaks it up? He is that one kid. And I adore the shit out of him for the human being he is becoming. The path he chooses is not an easy one. There are consequences to standing up for what you believe in. Very few people in this world are willing to accept those consequences.

Too many people think that this D/s shit is easy, that being a slave is simple. The truth is, you never fucking know how painful and difficult it can be until your drowning in the deep end. I have come to realize how very few truly commit to this shit. And I don't mean that in an offensive way. If anything, I am envious. Very fucking envious. Because it is the only thing that can truly compound the sensation of watching your heart and soul disintegrate into a million tiny pieces. Because you can't walk away. No matter how badly you want to, or how poor your ability to serve. It's the only thing that can make love fuck you up even more than it inherently is able to.