The Dark Ladder
I can not write when there is nothing to say. It is a curse I think for one who enjoys words to be simply out of them, but for a long time, I felt I was. It is a call and response, these things I say. It is woven into me. Have your word close in your thoughts and know you are safe and then forget it completely.
Climb down the ladder into degradation, fear and pain and revel in it. Wash me in your hate and anger.
It is less a game with me and more a need, less a joke and more a tragedy. I know I am not one beautiful to gaze on, not one seemingly brilliant nor wise. yet still I call, waiting for the pattern that lets me know. Children playing at being sex toys, well, not children perhaps, but they seem it to me.
I see them fitter around the scene like so much fireflies, bright and attracting attention. They are not for me. I see you, yes you, and my heart is warmed, my cruelty looks up from the book it is reading, something about Rome I think. Are you this creature of limits and laws or are you the wild pain-slut who puts up these walls only to have them torn apart?
Of course you hate it, dread it, fear it, that is the appeal, the need, the core of it. What is beyond red? beyond ok? what is beyond want and into this dark need that we wish would fade but only grows?
It is my friend an odd thing for me, and not one I like to get stuck in for it leads me to sadness more then not, but it is unavoidable to me. He does not like to be told no, this creature inside.
But there are rules, locks and doors that must be opened one at a time in proper form and order and it seems unlikely the combination will be sought. There is a wall, it seems real. Still though I am not sought, I flirt with danger I
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November 19th, 2009 at 12:52 pm
welcome back, our learned leader, and thank you for an insightful piece.