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Hetero Female Submissive, 61,  Georgia
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 DearJohnWayne

 Submissive Female

 Georgia

 61

 Hetero

 Caucasian

 08/24/15

 

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Journal Entries:
4/24/2016 5:27:32 PM
Dear John Wayne: There's more than one kind of silence. I know You think mine is filled now with orderly concerns, but there are places in my head so deeply empty not even You ever knew their void. I've closed them off now, mortared them over with time and tediousness, but You know me- I left a tiny peering space and from time to time my inward eye wanders. Sometimes I wish for the chaos of that void.

Sincerely,

the moon

8/28/2015 5:01:17 PM
Dear John Wayne:

Deep cleansing breaths someone told me today, only they said it in ALL CAPS.  Shouting at me to CALM DOWN is not the best use of your time.

Sincerely,

the moon

8/27/2015 2:29:30 AM
Dear John Wayne:

Last night I dreamed of snow.  Depending on which savvy seer I choose for interpretation, I am either frozen in blankness or undergoing transformation and purification.

Or maybe I just want to build a suggestive snow person out by the mailbox to shock the postman.

Yours truly,

the mule

8/26/2015 4:40:38 PM
Dear John Wayne:

My good humor wanes as time passes and out of this morass of ash and bile seems to rise a Phoenix with a bad attitude.  Perhaps there is value in despondency, and my true self is revealed to be a cracking seed, and a creeping tendril will yet find soil in which to root itself.

Otherwise, it's just Kubler-Ross.

Sincerely,

the duck

8/26/2015 2:56:59 AM
Dear John Wayne:

I didn't dream last night, but the moon woke me, again, swelling toward its Sturgeon apex. Perhaps on Saturday this fever will break.

Sincerely,

the duck

8/25/2015 1:48:26 PM
Dear John Wayne:

A dozen times today my fingers sought the talisman that until yesterday rested at the indent of my throat. Replaced now by only pulse, it lies coiled with the rope and guarded by fierce filigreed dragonfly, in a box that once held joy.
 
Thirteen minutes stretches out until it holds the universe within its span.  How will You fill that time?  I shall sit quietly and wait until I'm safely out the other side.
 
Yours truly,
 
the duck

8/25/2015 2:30:45 AM
Dear John Wayne:

Slatted white light woke me in the night and the dream of a phone ringing, ringing, but its blank face mocked me like that blind opal in the sky. 

I lay dry eyed, calm, and wondered if Your sleep had fled as well, or if Your sound judgment proved a useful soporific.

Day two dawns now, and I am off to herd cats.

Sincerely,

the duck

8/24/2015 5:39:04 PM
Dear John Wayne:

There was a buzzard on my porch tonight.  My trigger finger itched to etch his tale to You, because he is well known in these parts and craven sly; I'd all but forgotten the post office is closed up now, choked with dead letters heavy as paving stones for Hell.  Best teach that finger some other address.

Sincerely,

the mule

8/24/2015 3:15:13 PM
Dear John Wayne:

It's been about 24 hours since You disappeared over the horizon for what I perceive will be the last time, and nearly three years to the day when first You pulled up at my virtual corral.  Serendipity?  I think not.  That and the full moon on the horizon (which right about now looks more like a half sucked lozenge spat out in distaste than it does the orb of late round my neck) seem to bode an inauspicious weekend.

Or not.

That it should come to this makes ones head fair swim with implication.  Or is it imprecation?  I daresay I've done a bit of both over the past twenty-four hours.  Dose it up with some feinting and some fainting and it looks as if I'm going to make it, though not without a bruise or two from banging my head against the wall.

Yours truly,

the duck

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