Where my words give lie to the wolf under the skin.
We treasure that which hurts us most.
the greater the sacrifice
the deeper the wound
the darker our desire to take the hand that wields the knife.
—
Turn out the lights. Close your eyes. Listen.
And then tell me.
Will you struggle?
I'm hoping you will.
[audio:Djaevle_Struggle.mp3]
D'jaevle, Struggle
You are born. The doctor gives you a smack on the ass and you announce your entrance to this world with a loud startled cry. From that moment on you breathe in and you breathe out.
You leave the hospital cradled in your mother's arms, unknowing, unbiased, and unshaped and you breathe in and you breathe out.
You grow up, you take your first steps, you steal you first kiss, you tell your first lie, and each day you breathe in and you breathe out.
The first time your head is submerged under water you have a glimpse at the gift you have been given, but in the moment your head breaks the surface it slips away in thoughts of tomorrow and you breathe in and you breathe out.
You fall in lust, pass in and out of love, become lost to anger and relinquish hope, only to forget it all your next time through and still you breathe in and you breathe out.
You watch days turn from autumn orange to winter white as you discover mortality and learn to celebrate life and you breathe in and you breathe out.
Then you meet him.
And the first time you feel those hands settle over your throat, gentle and firm, you are captured by a grip complete enough that you feel the gift pass from your lips and into his own, until everything in you is tight and constricted, and for a moment you are more in this place then you have ever been anywhere, ever before And you don't breathe in. You don't breathe out.
Until he lets you.
unfinish yourself
unsmooth the edges
allow things to become
untidy
be unsteady
and
un
balanced
but do not think
you will leave
untouched
She was bent over my desk, panties and slacks around her ankles. It had been some time – too much time, in truth – since she had last been in this position. My fingernails bit into the soft skin of NE's hips and I dragged her back against me. I love the way her ass feels nestled against my thigh. I parted the back of her legs with a nudge.
Pressing one hand flat against her lower back, I forced her chest down onto the desk and her ass up until it presented an irresistible target. The first couple of slaps left her skin a bright red, and I took my time in painting the top of her thighs and both raised cheeks into a matching shade of crimson.
Satisfied, I pulled her away from the desk and left her standing in just her boots and blue sweater. I gestured her to her knees and she went. With one hand in the back of her hair, I looked down at her.
"I'm scared," she told me.
Of course she was.
"I'm scared to give it up."
Gripping her hair tightly, I pulled her head back until her throat stretched into a beautiful curving line and then leaned forward, sinking my teeth into her delicate skin, bit hard until her breathing caught, and I held her there, between my teeth, until I could feel the blood rush to her skin. My teeth slid away from her flesh, but not far, just to her ear.
"I know your fear," I said.
My free hand found her left breast, fingers twisting her nipple cruelly. I laid a soft kiss against her neck.
"And that too belongs to me."
swallowing
fractured, mirror-shaped
teardrops
i saw you,
in black and red,
thought to call out
through the tide of crimson
and choked on your name
instead
now,
when I taste blood,
I always think of you.
without the garden of
your needs
I would be lost
Here is one half of a conversation with Madeleine, my little vampire bitch and companion.
—
Madeleine shivers. "Though I am still inclined to occasional daydreaming about that night…"
…
Madeleine shakes her head. "Not one moment… the whole evening. But I suppose, really, the first time I felt your touch on my skin."
…
Madeleine nods slowly. "And the first time I felt your hands around my neck. Trembling, knowing how badly I wanted to surrender to you, doing it, and simultaneously being unable to believe that I was."
…
Madeleine mmmms dreamily. "I remember that too. And all the many gasps thereafter. Mostly because you bit me, you vampire, you."
…
Madeleine purrs. "Mostly the vampire, I think. There are too many dark promises in your whispers."
…
Madeleine squirms and, consequently, rubs back against your lap. "Some of your own creation… oh, and don't worry, if it gets too crowded, we can always make more."
…
Madeleine smiles at that, drawing a breath while she can. "I make few enough of them, don't I? Yes."
…
Madeleine moans and squirms again, gasping out, "What I want to know is how you know my weaknesses so well… or is it that I'm not so different from most other women?"
…
Madeleine shakes her head a little. "Who wouldn't? To see the passing of eternity… to feel such power… to remain like a god when everything else passes away? To be eternally young, and inestimably old…?"
…
Madeleine sighs softly. "I wish… but we grow old, and die. Even more reason to make the most of the time we have."
…
Madeleine closes her eyes and lays her head back against your shoulder again, her neck stretched taut and bared beneath your hand. "And relive them over and over…"
…
Madeleine moans softly… half sighs… and turns her head slightly to feel the roughness of your beard against her lips.
…
Madeleine whimpers into your mouth, knees getting a little weak as she trembles uncontrollably. "Another weakness…" she moans. "Your strength."
…
Madeleine whimpers again. "Maybe all the marks you left the -first- time will be gone by then."
If you could see the path in its entirety, knew the broken stones upon which you would stumble, the shade you rest under, the dark promise at its end – would you still walk it?
—
Close your eyes – no peeking now! – and listen.
[audio:Djaevle_BetrayedPaths.mp3]
D'jaevle, Paths
I want you to struggle.
When I have you pinned to the wall, your wrists held tightly in my grip and over your head, I want you to try and break free. You will twist your wrists, arch your back, and I will feed on your anger and your fear.
Because the more you resist, the greater my need is to possess you.
I will leave bruises on your wrists as a reminder. You will find yourself unconsciously touching them as you go through your day and you will remember how it felt to be completely at my mercy; it wasn't the way I held you still, the way my hands wrapped in kind cruelty around your limbs and throat, or the comfort I offered in the vicious bites left on the vulnerable curves of your breasts.
No. It was the way I watched you, the way I knew you would only offer yourself up after I had stripped you of all other alternatives.
Who says you can't condense wisdom into a few pithy words? Here are my Rumi-inspired snippets of poetry. Let them amuse. Let them enlighten. Let them make you laugh.
—