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~1
A switch is a switch, but that isn't to say that you can just flip it on like a light, and then off again when you leave the room. You flip it on and it stays on until the power is out - that is to say, the desire to keep it lit has drained away.
All little girls play with dolls, even I did - but I ripped off their heads, just to see what was inside. Now my approach is a little more ethical, but I'd still like to see what is inside of you. What it is that pulls your strings, taps your buttons and paints those emotions so pretty across your face.
Everyone has their good experiences and their bad experiences, their tears and their smiles, their desire and their indifference. No one can truly lay claim to the porcelain, untouched skin of a doll, and if I could, it would just be on the outside. Put me on a shelf, I've no string to pull to say pretty, sweet things to you, and my lips are not sewn shut. I will sing what you make me.
Teach me to be your dolly...
I am artistically inclined and take great pride in what intelligence I call my own. I write and I paint and I observe, but I refrain from unwarranted judgements. There is too much in the world that we don't understand for us to be justified in placing our own, narrow minded labels on everything.
I find great beauty in contrast. in opposite things so close to each other, when there is a direct, distinct line intersecting between them... that you can either tread upon or choose to ignore entirely. I love the cruel, sharp edge of a blade tempered by the warmth of a tongue, the harshness of cruelty softened by a kiss on my forehead, or a loving stroke down my spine before the crack of the whip... or when you lick away my tears, and tell me how beautiful I am when I cry. Love me, hate me, abuse me, but always love me, and always fix me.
Princess by day, slut by night. Sometimes slut by day, as long as the door is closed.
For me, being a submissive does not in any way mean that I will allow your personality or needs to completely eclipse mine. I have ran that road, have allowed myself to be wholly consumed by another, and it ended in complete disaster. For both of U/us.
I need attention. I need to be spoiled. I need to be loved. More importantly, however, I need One that can balance, because too much of a good thing is bad for anyone. How else could you judge positive if you did not know negative?
The desire to submit myself to someone is in every aspect of my being and personality, but that in no way means that calling yourself a Dominant means I will blindly obey You. You must prove your right to Dominate me, prove the right to have the gift of my deference. It will not be easy, as I am not a simple person - and anyone who claims to be is either lying or willfully ignorant. And as I will not make my submission easy to attain, neither do I want a Dom who is easy to please.
*WARNING: Any institutions or individuals using this site or any of its associated sites for studies or projects - You DO NOT have permission to use any of my profile or pictures in any form or forum both current and future. If you have done so or plan to do so, it will be considered a violation of my legal right to privacy and will be subject to pursued legal action.*
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The Reddye Number
Sun on my shoulder -
I feel so reckless
Tip that bottle till you’re silly and helpless
Tell me again why you love me now
Make me remember cause I always forget how
Blood still boiling from that humid heat
Eager, burnt, and mean walking down the street
I get time to myself tonight -
Won’t spend it all on any censor plight
I count the numbers outside the known few
The Reddye-number negative infinity Cuil
I knew all too early every brutal rule
Where all comes together just to let go
Hold fast hold onto me - cause I know and you don’t
Better bet this lashed back can bear a burden
This body with its brittle bones can hold steady and certain
Better bet this tenor of a pulse can stand a change in tone
Even with a heart full of holes and devotion, desperate, prone -
Lay down drunk - stitch yourself back up
Can’t walk around all a’bleed’n blood
I see you ‘neath the streetlight pass the
Poor boy on the bridge who can’t roll cigs
He begs for the one from your lips
Let him have it you don’t need it if he wants a hit that bad
I’ve got plenty - something-twenty and I’ll surrender half -
You exceeded an’ saw me -
I responded
An’ we absconded on so happily
You an' I always wrist deep into the carve
trying to hustle up tomorrow
We talk about the perfect space in between each scar
And how it's all about town that -
All our friends just let us down
Either they don’t call back, or they don’t let us hang around
What can you say for those who never sleep
They go from soul to soul with nothing good to speak
Neither of us never really had a fair place
Always been blessed with some great thoughts and a fair face
Play me a tune, I got a song to sing
Some good old fashioned blues I’ve known
To be a great refuge when I’m feelin’ low
Take a lean on my shoulder and I’ll lead you home.
I talked to the mic last night -
Had something to say
How I miss a few months ago -
And mourn every yesterday
Oh I needed distance - and I couldn’t stay drunk
It kept me from my clean white page
got my paperboat of a romance nothing but sunk,
I’ll cuff you to me to lose the key
and give to each of us a knife
To really cut the problem out
Of one another tonight
And -
I know that you envy
I know that you get mad
But I’m there to hoist you up when your strength has all been had
Oh he’s a killer - a little more so then the others
But ya better bet
he hasn’t met the solid spine of my brothers’
made of nails and dimes
all iron sides -
They’re just like me
A pack of sugarcoated razorblades
It makes wounds like so many bright candy shops
Scars that bare the mark of the forceful hand that could never stop
We all only know how to wield a knife and wipe the numbers off a clock
White eyeless faces staring -
arms that stay close but never take hold
Never hug to warm against the cold
Just turning blind without the 12 north
The 6 south -
I believe it’s time to go
They mean nothing till we find
A sort of trust to get us out
Must it always be a bill on a paperclip
Pulled along on a string
There must be another way besides this trick we’re chasing
Sun on my shoulder
Another morning spent
Mud all up the windowsill
someone wondering where I went
the absence strikes the final hour -
like a flint against the remaining nerve,
again - If I can remember last night or...
The night before and...
All those yesterdays drifting off into the summer haze...
I can start once more -
Another try but with the last effort on reserve
And remind me if you yourself have a memory at seconds' hand to lend,
To call you when it’s over hope you’re still my friend... |
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Unframed
Broken eye sockets
Electrical dead grab on to drop it
Never stays good enough to last
Slivers of medium
Spirits speaking to the dead
They weave soft illusions to cut you in half
Walk in reverse, head turned to face backwards
Can't traverse these miles through the mud
Bloated clouds sink low to frame a dry horizon
Pits and flame and sulfur
Climbing over towards the sun
Dip low beneath the axis of tomorrow
Reaching out and always resulting in just
Emptier yesterdays
And washed out, discolored and faded dreams
Letters inscribed with slow acting poison
Carving through sinews to placate the insane
Billow out on a wind
screaming
all the words
you can't pronounce |
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| Age: 54 |
| Lilcity,
Sweden |
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