No escaping gravity

It's funny how I see the bars of my cage everywhere. 

I see them in what makes other people comfortable. In relationships, family, steady work. In friendships. In finding someone or something desirable. Even in having this blog. In all the strings that come attached with anything we do. I see them even inside my head, drawing lines. Enclosing and creating meaning and at the same time imprisoning me.

It could be almost funny how what we perceive as reality is fictional. More and more I realise that there is no such thing as reality. There is only a haphazard splashing of meaning on a canvas made from nothing. Absolutely nothing. I have seen people going crazy. I know the next irrational act one can do is but a hair away from the semblance of "reality", from that fever dream we live on a daily basis. People grabbing a shotgun and creating yet another bloodbath. People snapping and killing someone they love. It doesn't take long, or much for someone to be unhinged. I have seen the sly beasts hiding behind the eyes of parents, I have seen the hand that caresses killing with the same ease.

Right now I live a normal life.

The more I look inside the more I comprehend I am none of the things I like or do.

There is nothing I cannot do, or cannot become.

I do have a personality, but personality is mostly a creation of habit. Habits can change and that small creature of habit called personality can die a silent and effective death.

Do I want to do it? Now that's a question.

Do I want to become everything?

Oh hell yes.

I have seen behind the veil and there is nothing there.

[Beautiful art by heise.deviantart.com]

The second blog I promised you...

My second blog is slowly growing. Only a few posts yet, but I am getting there...

https://mostlyamused.blogspot.com/

Or the first link in my list of links.

You are more than welcome to visit.

Dreams of no importance

Why do I bother myself with what your problem may be when you are out there to get what you can?

Then again, dreams have no emotional censorship. What I felt was a very powerful blast. You were trying to reach me, to get close to me, and I grabbed you by the face and pushed you away in the same manner a bored prince would push away a concubine that has tired him with her affections. You had three or four other men around you and you were truly desperate to get close. I was indifferent, treating you as an annoyance. In the same dream I could see your house and it was spotless, but there was no kitchen in there. You were only eating cold meals based on very simple and poor ingredients. You don’t feed yourself on any level. You deprive yourself of emotional nourishment because you are an idiot of the worst kind, wanting to control everything. Control again, that old friend of mine. Controlling. What an excellent way to keep yourself busy in order to avoid thinking. I do it myself…

I pushed you away and you grabbed my hand, literally begging. “Please” you said. “Send me away, but at least caress my face.”

Now in the dream I felt pity for you and was more than a little shocked; you are not the begging type. Why, I would have thought you’d rather have your nails torn out than beg, much less beg a woman, any woman. And even less me. Then again, in the dream you were writhing in the arms of those men, and even as I pushed you away you still tried to get close. You were actually tearful. That’s what shocked me the most. You were begging me with your face contorted by agony and tears in your eyes.

Can you fake it so much? My sensible, caring side asks. Can you fake so much feeling? 

You probably can. You can probably do a lot more to gain attention and steal energy.

At the same time, my dark side is having a party thinking of the delicious possibilities of me hurting you, making you beg on your knees. Something you’ll never, ever, ever do in the waking world. You’d never stoop so low as to beg a woman and me in particular. Never. That belongs to the world of dreams, of my soul visiting places of ‘what may be.’ And I’d never try to make it happen either. I don’t think I can anyway; I feel very alienated to myself to believe anyone could feel something so strong for me. It’s not even low self-esteem as much as actual alienation. I can’t identify with the person I see in the mirror and see her as a woman, much less a desirable woman. But I digress. The only real reason I do not wish to go down that path is that I am not sure I’ll be able to keep my sadistic impulses in check. And if I don’t, heh. Then god/dess help us all and me more than anyone else.

Then morning came, full of distressing news. And right now I can’t focus.

I have seen similar dreams before.

Thankfully they fade away during the day.

Thankfully you have no access to me on any level.

I am safe, both from you and my dark side.

At least for now. Later on I may be a different person and not care.

I truly hope I will.

[Insert random sounds of distress here]

Some people have a gift they should be shot for. Or deified. And yet they're humble...

I just finished watching the Mist, based on a novel by Stephen King.

The part that really spoke to my heart was an old "friend" of mine.

Let me introduce you...

Her voice resembles a raging hurricane, the Ocean before Time giving birth to existence. The end of the world and the beginning of Worlds.

Enjoy (?)

Black and gold and full of scales

[Wonderful art by Royo]

Today I am wondering again if you are happy.

Of course, it makes no difference what I think or believe. It cannot alter your state of mind. I can only change myself. Yet sometimes thoughts pass through my head, similar to erratic flocks of birds. The mind as the most ancient drive-thru in existence.

Sometimes I wonder if I want to know. I know I am merely cheating. I cannot live anything exciting now and try to find something more interesting to bother my head with. But my head is bothered and fucked up and disturbed already, it’s a reverse Cathedral of wishes, dark games and obsessions. I should not add to it.

But are you happy? My mind once more asks. And what had happened between us back then?

Who cares? With my luck in these matters, you probably had murdered me. Much like another person we both know. Or have heard about. 

I don’t really want to know, to be honest. I want the naughty stuff without the painful details. Hahaha. What a bloody idiot. Wants a consequences-free sin. Like eating those disgusting 0% sweets. If you’re gonna sin, sin boldly. Sin like you mean it!

Will I be able to get rid of the past?

Will I be able to dance through the minefield of you all without ending up as minced meat? Burned, broken and destroyed? Because fully avoiding you doesn’t seem an option. I don’t know how stubborn you are as a person. The other one is extremely stubborn. And he’s about as attractive as that insistent, sweet toothache when one is teething. It hurts but kinda nice. One can't help but rub their tongue onto it.

And there are days I know that none of you has any actual power over me. I can simply slip from between your fingers like a memory and leave you behind, because that is what you deserve. I can simply get up and let you fall in the floor, in the manner of a woman who sheds clothes she does not need anymore.

Well, I am still wondering if you’re happy. And whether adultery is your cup of tea.

I promise I’ll add honey and spices to it.

Erotica

Been writing erotica for three days in a row. Perhaps my head will explode and LET ME BE at last. And I am not even ovulating.

Mah.

Hide and seek and you may find

 

Sometimes days pass in a hurry, like the fluttering wings of a bird.

Sometimes the hands of the clock get stuck and go nowhere and the day drags on like punishment.

And sometimes feeling and understanding are bridged in a single moment. The experience itself illuminates with nothing more needed. Feeling is understanding and time does not exist. Everything is one.

Books, volumes cannot express that magic speck of time. Philosophy is inane prattle compared to the alchemical moment when something -and everything- makes perfect sense.

How many such moments have you had in your life?

And why do these moments illuminate those who have lived in darkness for years, with their hearts as their only source of light?

How can music make me cry so much when so many things don’t touch me anymore?

For a moment you danced in front of my eyes, and you were just like the snowflakes you so much love. Flawless. Perfect. Celestial. Beautiful enough to make someone’s heart break.

Still waters run deep. Ancient water married to ancient fire.

How do you hide so well?

How do you hide so well? Answer me. How do you manage to hide under all those shadows and poisonous thorns when you are so white a single glimpse of you can illuminate my entire sky? The pearl hidden in the abyss. The proverbial pearl.

I am lucky I can read between the lines.

I am lucky you have illuminated my sky.

Thank you for making me cry tonight.

Thank you.