Friday, October 20, 2017

his dirtier lusts




Today it rains and the air is chill. In the morning he has a meeting with his university colleagues to discuss his progress on his project (which he has been very protective over sharing with me) and he is distracted with this and focused. He starts the shower and then he stands in the bathroom doorway as the light from within glows all around him. I watch him from his side of the bed that is still warm from him; and I’m filled with his scent ....but he reaches from the door to me, his arm extended

At first I don’t move, I watch his face .... I read it.... and then I get up and go over to him. He takes me first by my right wrist, his left hand wraps and then opens to tug me towards the shower

He does everything; he pulls the sweater up off over my head, he takes me into the shower with him. He bathes me head to toe with his hands and kisses every place he washes. He misses nothing, I stand like his mannequin and let him bend me ..... when I go to wash him he looks into my eyes and smiles with dark brows quizzical and when my hands move down he stops me..... and takes a sudden sharp breath—he wants me

he tries to will his erection away by holding my wrists in his hands, leaning his head into my hair and breathing.... tries to .... slow his breath

I don’t move

Finally he says....

“There’s no time.....”

I cannot help the giggle released from my throat and had meant not to. I say,
“Then, I’ll go make you coffee—“

I start to leave the shower but he stops me, he pushes me against the wall of the shower and says into my ear,
“don’t move....”

It is fast but enough to have left me dizzy and after I watch him rush through his getting dressed wrapped in his bathrobe on his side of the bed. He comes over once ready and looks at me there,
“stay there until I get back....”

I look at his sweet, serious face with those eyes of his; it seems impossible such dirty thoughts travel through his scholarly head; he says,
“so I can ....” the rest he whispers in my ear,”....fuck you proper....”

Which he does later.... after he has returned

Somewhere within this time between us he half whimpers....behind me—his mouth hot behind my head, pressed against my back he says,
“Why is it that I cannot get enough of you....? Each time I only want you more.... are you making me go mad, I wonder?” And says this as he mounts me like I’m Orlando, he knows the secrets of locks and keys

Someone who looks like him you would never think.... he is fearless behind his secret chambers .....and I am willing to play his shameless slave because of how good a whore he is to me



Thursday, October 19, 2017



I sit by the wall staring. I don’t know how long that I do that.

It is that something is fried within and do things move slowly past my lens

I have been drawing.... in the corner by the wall... I hold his face and say “don’t move....” he lets me

He sits with me and he tells me stories. They are stories of his life... he tells me about his early boy school days and things like frogs and wells.... he tells me about England. So I listen as I draw his face because it is something... something to hold onto... he stops in his narrative about a science experiment gone wrong... his eyes.... the way the light... goes through the blue there... you see the panels shift....

I say,
“Why must you care for helpless creatures so—Nigel?”

His eyes hold mine... they open full to me... that moment there.... I fall ever more for him.... I watch as his eyes begin to well, but he smiles and reaches for me....he says,

“Because I know how that feels.... and it helps me knowing I can save someone I love....”

I watch the tears fall openly to me. I think I am too overwhelmed to run away from what he stirs in me. I had not expected vulnerability from him.... just there.... I think about how I have been.... the nightmares and sleepless nights of late as I have been  exorsized

I see he is disturbed

by me

I can see something there etched now on his young face about me.  Beneath those haunting eyes that put my heart inside a razor’s vise ....labradorite overcast with potential for consummation ....again ....and again like a madness or addiction

I think about his mouth ....when he kisses me.... the way he possesses me

He says in a whisper, his hand going up to my face,
“my little bird....”


(......to be continued.....)


I leave work and have anxiety as I reach the corner because there has been this strange sense all along...

It is rote, perhaps, later— I find myself thinking it was only just a second ago I was in the shower stall....I sitting down upon the small square floor and extending each leg up and running the razor up my leg.... because somewhere after then and now I get lost.... and find I am in now instead

and wonder and

....I think of fallen angels

and then I think of those times at Bard College

When I used to lie down on the highway at night on the yellow line and wait

....and dare

fate

.....well.... so if you fall and cannot

rise

it is because the monsters have been let out. I think my lighthouse opened Pandora’s box. And it all oozes from the deepest caverns of the inner hell of secrets..... I look from the bus stop into the dull air. I hear my mother in my head and I .... feel a terrible sadness. I think too of the moment I became a mother after three days of labor and no drugs.... and I feel such remorse for all I ever once hoped for

For less then a minute it started to rain; it fell for me; like my tears

I watched it stain the concrete

I watched it shatter into pavement

I broke with it as I watched a random text come in from my husband say: scientist study shows why dyslexic see like you

and my mind goes flatline because right now I see how far removed everything seems from this point within this cell with the maze inside .....no where

lost in where

I don’t know how long it is that I sit there thinking about nothing— more than what it is I am avoiding ....but at the same time focusing on and dissecting .... but then I sense it and then see he is there

I watch him from across....watch me.... across the street he stands there, and then I see he comes to me; and so I just wait; expecting it’s inevitable little. He says,

“your Wizard.... he was real, wasn’t he? I just realized....”

I look. See.... he’s catching up.... that’s good. I meet his eyes and his are steady on. I stay still and watch him

then say,
“I don’t think I am as clever to have made him up.”

He smiles,
“he was your ex.... I just realized.”

X
YZ

There’s a reason someone becomes your x

I turn and shrug. Turn a corner. Not Chris. Not Chris cross. First x, but ....they never go. They always find their way back and I ....can only handle one passenger because I can take no prisoners

I start walking and maybe I was heading to the Co-op but, Nigel stops me,
“Let’s go,” he says

you know in the Matrix when
Trinity, like a praying mantes, leaps for that kill in the first scene? It is a moment like that in my mind when I pull away from the moment. I see—watch his hand on my shoulder... I am aware of him and everything —hyper aware

“Let’s go,” he says

His hand upon my shoulder

“Where are we going?” I ask looking up into his eyes... eyes... they guide like beacons; labradorite eyes ....eyes that guide through deepest fogs.... their clarity, like beacons draw and hypnotize

Tuesday, October 17, 2017




and each time he lets me climb upon him to exorcise my demons

I love him a little more than I would admit aloud or even to myself.... because the language between us that happens .... the secrets we say with only our body’s responses... admission ...with pleasure as he explores his study beneath his lenses and then when he lets me reach up to his edge... that is when he reveals it... if only for a second in his pretty eyes... that is the moment during sex that I wait for ... that is what forces the breath from me.... his moment of weakness.... conquers me.... and always this is when he takes my wrists and raises them over my head to hold me down, pushing me backward at once whispering his commands into my ear. His voice. The way he speaks.... it gives me chills by the treble of his voice, and the strange ways he says his ‘r’’s

We do go to his other world —his Mon Fē maybe

But it is somewhere else from here.... it is preferable to here... I don’t mind it there at all

So we lay there still like that, he is still present within my cavity, we remain in mind close in complete embrace. I am aware of his breathing; it has a simple rhythm like the safety of ocean waves. It is all I let myself believe in ...just now. My emotions are always... too exposed ...after....with him....he fucks not just the body but the mind and soul and he possesses without waiting for permission ....because he tripped the locks

but even as I start to fall asleep like this, I feel his hands run over me, he pushes me back, still inside and takes me again, fast and hard, forcing my climax before being aware it was about to be caused; he does this twice to me before he says,
“now.....” and we orgasm together as he kisses my mouth, his slippery hair caressing my face as it falls like a shimmer down

If he can go this way down that maze it makes you wonder how much is his creation

.....confessions in the dark



he has dragged me through the deepest of hell.....

....he says,

“Are you there?”

When I look up at him I see he has been crying. His eyes are red, they are shot with red veins, they bring the blue of his hazel eyes out, labradoodle and overcast as they often are, like now

they are like a humid breeze in a fall frosted day

they are a soggy embrace from a nightmare

much needed and welcomed

that he weeps with me; for me.....

is everything... despite; in spite? of his his strange proclivities to his obsessions for me and maybe all the more reason it must be he; him.... it must be..... it must be

more.... in a moment .... or later than sooner


I long for my light house. I don’t know if he’s there. I think I have fallen into shadow. I feel like instead of writing a novel my life is one. But it began not with me but my parents and theirs. It is a pattern. I got the momentum because it is dna. My infamous father left his imprint on me. I travel through people’s lives in much the same way. Even as I try to not be seen, instead i have made men half out of their mind over me without doing anything. I think it’s the dna. My dad was charming and charismatic. He was a handsome devil and women loved him. He loved women. He was a naughty playboy and flaunted it. He was flamboyant as was my mother. My mother on top was a Leo so dna aside forced its hand on my fate. I was afraid of my own shadow but apparently the way I looked dragged me to be seen when I wished to hide. The only time I didn’t mind being seen was when I was performing one of my plays. I used to write them and put them on, I’d play every part but I don’t think too many people saw any of those so instead I would draw pictures of how the set looked with curtains and .... but mostly I hid. I was embarrassed, to be honest, by all the attention men gave me because I felt like a dirty offering and I wanted to vomit as they only wanted to put their hands on me

But my parents lavished in the lime light. My mother loved attention. She dressed like a queen and she had classical taste; plus she was beautiful; a real Grace Kelly. Did I mention the Oedipal thing with me? Well, there you have it. I am revealing myself for once. On the record. In fact, my mother wanted me to love her that way. She was very... who is that queen in Snow White? But she was good queen bad queen. She had mental illness; my guess .... so anyway, she loved me as I was her love child. Her consolation prize for the love of her life she didn’t get to marry. Her secret. But her husband knew, that’s what they fought over me about but she was that way. She had no scruples .... I used to be her conscience often.... I would listen to all her stories.... her confessions..... everything .... I listened to her all the time and then I was also her punching bag but that was nothing to the Oedipal trip; that would have been enough in itself

So the oddity of it all —the anomaly because I was before my time. Being mixed now would be more attractive then it was then. Back then it was as bad as bastard but even that today is nothing. So in Freud’s version, the boy is gay because he cannot be unfaithful to his mother, whom he had romanticized

This is why Freud is a genius to me. Because when I read his explanation in his own words it clearly identified what had happened to me inside as a little child. You see, it happened this way for me and back then even Anais Nin wrote about incest and maybe back then all that opium went to their heads about instinctive morality.... but I always knew it was wrong and I did not need a bible to explain but I felt sorry for her, do you see? That is what is sad, I know because my pattern is all wrong this way, it’s reversed somehow ....like everything

which is why I long for my lighthouse



Sunday, October 15, 2017

save our ship, my lighthouse; encrypt



I have started to realize .... well, sometimes during a dream I wake up.... but I am still dreaming

too

sometimes.... this happens usually to me in clusters. For instance, I may go a long time where I do not seem to reach deep dream state. R.E.M. state. In fact, I fear dream state; it is my worst fear of all. Only, this also means that there is much disorder in the brain —but the times that I do slip into that deep state and I am lucky to encounter no monsters or demons.... those are my best days ever as my thinking is so clear and my creative brain flies free.... but this seldom happens. I only recall a scattering of knowing this so

.... well, what do you suppose may be the meaning of this? R.E.M. and no monsters.... shinny, happy people

but no

     not now..... I am not well and am quite afraid and I know .....there is no one to call; no where to turn and this armor is too heavy anymore.... I have never felt this alone .... or been aware ....it’s too heavy