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Resistance is futile. Now, I ask you.. what self-respecting, handcuffs-loving, bondage baby would ever argue different? I mean.. thats kinda the whole point, innit?

On the Nightmare before Christmas, I like Lemony Snickets Pi and Im very into unusual in a Morticia Addams sorta way. I may be a cross between Winnie the Pooh and the Tasmanian Devil. I need to find my birth certificate. I know for sure my existance started as a fertilized egg so Ive come pretty far so far!.

Politically Incorrect Possibly Illegal

I dont think every single woman needs to be or belongs under the hand of a benevolent dictator but acknowledge more do than dont.

I would describe myself as geek-chic, quirky and cool. As living in CA rocks, I have zero desire to relocate even if I could. No one blinks an eye when I put artichokes on my pizza or use avocado as a substitute for mayo. For some reason my friends and family insist on labeling me demented and disturbed.

It might be the blood thing. shrug

If you were an item in an antique shop, what would you be and why?

I would be the leather-bound, half-filled journal of an old woman. Her elegant penmanship would tell tales of her youth her hopes, her dreams, her aspirations.. whatever they were. Her adventures of a lifetime her loves, her losses, her successes and failures are laid out .. and her end. It would be known. Did she get to visit that exotic place she dreamed of in her childish desires, did her love last.. did she carry with her, always, the blush and excitement and the wonder of things. She did. It was a life filled with everything but mediocrity.

There is plenty of room for whomever finds use of odd little journals to add adventures of their own.

If I owned a slave I would want her to be wicked smart, almost fearless, with the heart of an angel, the soul of an imp, the grace of a dancer, the humor of a bawdy girl, the sensuality of a succubus, with wisdom born from failure and strength forged from tragedy and she should be humbled by both the great and the small because shes a slave.

I believe that my Master should be treated like a King with food prepared by an expert in French cooking techniques, wine supplied by a well-trained sommelier, a home stylish and so tastefully decorated it would serve as a cover for any Home magazine and be greeted warmly by a sexual creature crafted in hell, clothed by heaven and designed to kill an ache so intense it makes him weep unless, maybe he wants something different. Im flexible.. to a point.

Pain. Its how you know youre still alive.

Master Michael

Sept 13, 1951 - Dec 22, 2013

He was not the Earth and air. He was just a man ... but because of him the air was sweeter and the Earth more tolerable a place to be.

You gave me your forever I wish I could have returned the same

She couldnt sleep.. wasnt even mine, but I drove around the block countless times to quiet that fussy baby so she could find her peace and then her sleep. Amazing what peace I found for myself in trying to help find hers.

I hitchhiked across Canada with my friend Kim when we were 13 years old. We got picked up by a guy who had 5000 stolen 8-tracks in his back seat and trunk but he was the nicest guy you could meet. We were young, stupid and had a blast unprepared for the consequences that should have come but we never had to pay. Luck was on our side. I wonder if he ever got caught.

I hopped on a freight train when I was 15 and met a hobo named George. He taught me how to open beer bottles with my teeth and a can of beans with a pocket knife. Its harder than it looks!

I danced to the beat of congas, half-naked in a room full of strangers. My shoulders were held back with a body harness of flat, red rope. Clothespins on zippers decorated my breasts, already an angry black and purple from a wicked delrin canning the night before. My nipples were pierced with a cross of needles and tethered by leather. She pulled the leather taut, leaned in and whispered in my ear, Do what you want to do.

I wanted die.

I let my head fall back and felt my soul lift and I watched as I moved on stage, my body swaying to the congas. The energy in the room was palable. I got to die and it was glorious.

I highly recommend the experience.

I read the Art of War. The moment I was done, I flipped back to the first page and read it again. Within a week I had read it a third time. That and a copy of Grays Anatomy are really all you need in your BDSM library.

I sat as juror number 2 at a murder trial and sent a man to prison for life. I have never lost a moment of sleep over it.

I have pierced a human scalp with a crown of needles and worn weights sewn into my own skin.. more than once.

I have a friend who reads the obituarys looking for the funerals of strangers so he can attend in case they have no one else there. Sometimes I go with him.

I climbed to the very top of the Moorish ruins above Sintra where I enjoyed a spectacular view and a decent king.

Ive danced with the ish Ambassador to Portugal and raved with kids half my age. Ive slept in the bed of a King and been homeless in the back of a car. I held the hand of someone while they died - it was the woman who raised me which was not the same woman who gave birth to me. I know the joy of motherhood and the ache of watching your child in pain which is the worst pain imaginable by magnitudes.

I have been a glutton. I have starved. I have been enraptured and uplifted. I have been defiled and debased. I have lived.. as a human .. just being.

Oh and I want so much to believe in magic but of unicorns and pollywogs, only one of those is real so let there be dragons at least and my laments of mundane status may be silenced by a fiery delusion...momentarily, I know, but none-the-less... let there be dragons so I can be devoured off the bone with neither grace nor gravy.

Have you ever stopped time? You have if youve kissed a woman and taken her breath away.

Have you ever walked on water? Its happened every time youve brushed away her tears.. even the ones which you have caused to fall.

Have you ever created a universe? She follows you.. you are the creator of her universe. You are her Sun and warm her. You are her Earth and keep her grounded.

Did you ever feel like you were a God? Its because, in that moment.. to her.. you were...

p styletext-alig
I have finished cleaning up the last of my mail box here and I am heading over to that ?other? place to use their forums as I have time. My passport expires in June and most countries require 6 months left to be able to travel with or without additional visas so train and the mainland until I renew my travel documents to hop over bodies of water and I do have a ?thing? for all things water. 🌈There are no rainbows without water and rainbows are cool.🌈
I have been here to utilize the forums which appear to have suffered some extinction level event. If they return, so will I. Until then you can reach me on my regular email which you know if we are already friends. RIP forums! You have performed your services as best as you could given the tools you had with which to work and the many antiquated limits imposed upon your metal bones and electronic pathways. I shall miss you, the education and endless hours of entertainment you have offered for the decade or so I walked the forums hallowed halls.
I am asked often enough what I look for in a relationship that I thought I would put it here and save myself some time from rewriting. Well, I don?t have a list as such or anything. I am more go with the flow, write as you go. If I find a path interesting (being a rather nosy sort of human) I might follow it under the right circumstances. The paths I like to follow are usually different, off the beaten trails, roads that wind, twist and turn and have surprises around corners which can?t be seen until you?re practically right on top of them. I find the people who forge such paths on their own terms to be the most interesting to me. I guess when I find someone who does that as well as I do already, that would be interesting. If I find who does it better, that would be intriguing.
Ah, yes.. the holidays and family?s coming to town, the anticipation of feeding hordes then finding places for the bodies to slumber, presents to open, rehearsal for our talent show Christmas eve (I wrote a piece based on the Ten Commandments as written by an atheist..its hella fuunnnny and I believe it would make even God chuckle if He has any sort of humor and I look at humanity and think he must or surely our antics would cause perpetual tears and the rain would never end. In other, shorter words.. I?m busy. So, wish, worship, wonder, be merry or do Mary..whatever floats your boat. Remember a paid day off so no bitching allowed and if you don?t get the day off, splurge on deserve it. By the by, have you ever taken note of the demands of some gift tags? They are virtually ordering you about willy-nilly commanding you to be merry, or joyful. Dommy little suckers. I like ?em. 🍪+🥛4🎅🏼
The symposium was AMAZING! I could have been there six more hours with no problem. So fun! The event was filmed, so anyone can see it when it loads to the Sydney Opera website. I recommend! I am going to this so Sydney is now set in stone.
Scrapped Japan as a destination..for now at least and decided to go to Australia. I just got my visa approved so I am doing research to see how to get the most bang for my buck. Watch out Land down Under..your government gave me permission to invade! Muhahaha
Finally..Game of Thrones tonight! Yay! It's a dragon thing..what can I say. I am not ashamed. ;D
Seriously considering a trip to Tokyo.
Scotland..good trip! The travel bug has bitten and I am researching my next trip. I have time for one more before my passport expires and I need to renew it. I just need to decide which ocean to fly over. ;D
Later Muggles! I am off to St Mungos!
Leaving for Scotland on June 27, Arrive Glascow June 28.. bbl 18 hour layover in Amsterdam..that should be fun. ;)
I have decided not to do the birthday thing any more. That just keeps adding more years. Instead.. I am going to level up..that adds experience plus give you an additional character point to use as you like and my dex is going down so I need to compensate.
This stuff happens. You go blind, deaf. Your screams are forced to muffled whimpers, anxiety turns to thirst. Fear and dread become anticipated, expected then embraced. Time winks, instant even as hands move around the numbered board, countless. The water that is the most of you is forced to surface in forms of sweat and tears and viscous gobs. The blood which is the life of you makes its presence known in rivulets and bruises left behind when the skin which holds the inside of you is attacked with determination, purpose and care. It's true. This stuff happens. You become your senses...and you would explode for them if not for the bodies ability to accommodate, compensate and swell. It becomes more difficult to inhale and thinking too arduous. It's just easier to open your mouth and breath. Your teeth and tongue are friend and enemy to salty leather, hard plastic or cold metal. Rope hugs, hurts, burns and cures and can help you sail the sea or into oblivion. This place, in space, it's all your own and it is boundless and it is endless and it is a ride unmatched by any bridled beast. You are exalted and revivified even as you collapse and fall back on realities gravity, exhausted, confused and laughing through sobs. There is more and there is less and there is quite different. In the end you smile because this stuff happens.
I am afraid that I just do not have the time to devote quality communications for online chit chat with the nameless, faceless masses from the four corners of the Earth. No pic and not local is no longer happening given the limited time I am willing to spend in fruitless indulgences. I am the touchy-freely sort. ;)
I joke. If I were a criminal, I would be an arsonist. I said IF. The kitchen thing was years ago, I wasn't used to working with a gas stove and it was an accident..both times. I do take responsibility though. It was my lack of focus and no other reason but it is true.. ... I like watching fire dance. It frees the shadows from the wall. Grotesque abstracts and twisted things, silent screamers. I suppose I scream too when caught in less dimension, less than fire, non-existent save the fire. There is nothing but to dance as fires slave. Then, it seems, that shadows master is fire..only in slavery to master fire is shadow freed from the confines of being nothing on the wall.
I lost something but I don't know what it is..I just know there is something missing. Damn old age! It's one of those things were you knew what it was but then got distracted ..ugh... I will probably remember it at some better not drive me crazy..I am already on an edge and without a straight jacket in sight! Maybe I do need a beating..just for clarity's sake! ha! Edited..My dads checkbook..doh. I have to get the Oct HOA fees sent out. My brothers want to sell the place..I want to turn it in to a rental's getting sold. One of my brothers gave me his proxie but the other is much younger, short sighted and does not understand this is a buyers market and not a good time to sell. ::sigh:: I probably forgot subconsciously on purpose.
I have two cats totaling 18 of those is about to end. I took evidence photos but I can't prove which one is guilty .. but this is not a democracy, no trials are required.. Sophie did it.. I know she did so she's going to be down to 8 and she's only 5 months old. She is starting off in life already making poor choices. I would blame myself but I am completely usual.
I can't seem to cry for my dad..I think I reached the quota while he was still alive and none are left for his death... I don't know that a soul such as his can rest in Peace. I will let those who need to ponder such things ponder them..I would rather take my grandchildren out and create a memory..maybe involving ice cream.

"Excuse me?"

The cashier behind the counter at Hardee's is smiling as looks at me and repeats himself. "Uwannafrishawzhwiddat?" Clearly he is eager to serve and has an expectant quality about him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't understand what you said. Can you repeat it but slower?" I feel bad asking him to repeat himself because he has braces and looks uncomfortable as if they've been newly adjusted.

"Do you want a frishawzh with that?"

Am I stupid? What the fuck is a frishawzh? I look at Michael but he just shrugs.

"I'm really sorry but I can't understand what you're asking. One more time. Do I want.. what?"

God love 'im.. he's not a bit perturbed at my repeated question. He just keeps smiling and gives me the same answer. To expect the status quo to move is insanity.. on the plus, that often involves straight jackets (of which I am firmly and most assuredly pro).


Okay. I need a different approach. The problem isn't whether or not I want frishawzh. The problem is I don't know frishawzh from Adam so I may very well want it! On the other hand, what if it involves coleslaw? BAM.. I'll lose my appetite because that's what coleslaw does to me. So, I have to determine the real problem or I will never find a solution.

Ah! "What is frishawzh?" BINGO! This should get results and after all this it had better be something involving lobster and butter. I've earned at least that much.

"Frishawzh. Mayo an' catch-up."

::blinks:: Frishawzh. 'Fry' 'Sauce' spoken through teeth caged with braces in English with Utah twang. Turns out to be regional. Who knew? We don't have fry sauce in Ca.

Passed on the fry sauce, picked up the gem.

Just because you've never seen it, heard of it or even understand what the hell it is.. that doesn't mean it's not real or doesn't exist and if you just keep probing, you can learn stuff. Sometimes that requires changing your approach and tackling things from a different angle or perspective.

You're going to learn stuff along the way. Not from me, I just mean from life itself. You won't be able to help yourself.

Be nice to the kid with the paper hat and braces on his teeth in Utah. He's a good kid.. he can lead you places.

It's quite rare but sometimes I feel like writing fiction.. this was one of those times..

The Temp

I remember, with an almost startling clarity, the moment of my death. Perhaps that is as it should be considering it took place only a moment ago. The life I had led is already beginning to fade, to blur into a nothingness as if I never existed so I need to tell this quickly before I forget, before it ceases to matter. I was Anna. I was here. I need to say it. I need someone to know it. So old. So tired. I am ready to be dead but I was here.

I had thought that I was content though my life was certainly not what one would call interesting or eventful. Really, there had been no landmarks, no cosmic or cataclysmic events which would ever have called any sort of attention to me. I was, in actuality, rather dull. Even my death had no special significance, other than the fact that my life ended in a rather unusual way which is, of course, what you would wish to hear about now; not how I failed to live but how I managed to die in such an unexpected and abrupt manner. Perhaps, though, even that is not so unusual. There are, after all, only so many ways in which one can die.

Let me back up a few days, as tedious as doing so always is in tales such as these.

Mora came to work at the lab. She was a temp hired to fill in for an analyst going on maternity leave and, as supervisor of the graveyard shift, it was my job to introduce her to the rest of the staff and get her up to speed as quickly as possible.

Tuesday 10:00 PM. Moras first shift. I had four days left to live.

She had an appearance which was quite startling to behold considering that we lived in San Diego, a well-known location for the tanning set and 'beautiful' people. She was so very pale you see, a fact which was amplified by the thick shock of black hair falling to her waist.

Thinking back, I find it a bit odd that I had noticed her finger nails first. Not that they were so very long but that she kept them filed to a sharp point and painted with such a dark red polish it seemed as though she had dipped them in blood. I say it was odd to notice such a thing first because it was her eyes which were her most hypnotic feature. Unusually large, they were enhanced further by dark, long lashes that one would have sworn had been added individually by some Hollywood make-up artist. They were framed by highly arched brows which held something of a permanent expression of surprise. But those eyes were dead, devoid of emotion. There was nothing of pain or joy, love or hate, anticipation or desire within them. They were simply empty and I feared to look too closely at them for the mirror they might have been. They were too familiar and yet, oddly alluring. To gaze upon them too long would be to risk ones very soul within their empty depths.

The moment I met her I had wanted her as desperately as a starving babe seeks out its mothers milk. I had never felt such an attraction for another woman as I did for Mora and for the first time in my life, I actually had the desire to seduce someone. I wanted to own her, all of her. I wanted her exposed, raw and trembling before me, naked in body, spirit and mind. I wanted to discover what tormented her for only someone tortured would have eyes such as hers and I wanted to discover the source of that torment. I wanted to be her pain, her joy, her rapture, her terror. I wanted her to scream for me, cry for me and I wanted to comfort her and shield her at the same time. She would exist for me alone and the thought of it was a heady intoxicant while, at the same time, the idea terrified me. Never in my life had I entertained such thoughts. In fact, prior to meeting Mora, the very idea I could have such things dwelling in my mind would have sickened me. It was a vast contradiction and I did not understand my own desires.

It was just a fantasy. One which would never be fulfilled because I was a no one. A nothing. Mediocre, average, barely adequate. These were the words which best described me and I knew such a woman as Mora would only respond to powerful, persuassive, confident and sure, qualities I could never hope to possess.


I made excuses to stop by her desk throughout the evening, ostensibly to check on her progress and see how she was getting along with her duties. I was almost giddy every time I walked past and steeled myself not to reach out and touch the silky paleness of her skin.

Wednesday 2 AM.

I took her down to the employee lounge during the dinner break and she shared with me that she was new in town, which explained the lack of a tan, and somehow I mustered the courage to invite her out for a drink on Saturday to show her around the city and point out places of interest. Her quick acceptance took me aback although I was, of course, quite pleased. Arrangements were made for me to pick her up at her new apartment and it seemed as if the rest of the week took a lifetime to pass before we were able to clock out at the end of the week.

Saturday. 7:00 PM. Exactly one hour before my death.

I showered with an unusual meticulousness. I had never cared over much for my appearance, but tonight, of course, was different. Tonight I was to spend time with Mora, for whom I hungered, and I could not help but pay particular attention to regions of my body I had not explored for quite some time. As I recall, I actually giggled though it was probably more from nerves than anything else. The black slacks and white blouse on my slender frame were actually quite flattering though I didn´t know it. When I looked into a mirror, I couldn´t see what others saw in me which contributed to my self-esteem issues.

I stopped on the way to her apartment and splurged on an expensive bottle of wine hoping she would be pleased and when she finally opened the door to my tentative knock, she took my breath away. She wore a black, silk dress, strapless, which hung in a lazy fashion to just below her knees. A small pair of diamond stud earrings were her only adornment. She had piled her mane of hair high upon her head exposing the beauty of her long, alabastor neck. Mute, I held out the wine to her and she flashed me a smile as she took it and moved aside inviting me in.

"Would you like a glass before we go?" The question came low and throaty and I found it difficult to put one foot in front of the other to step across her threshold almost paralyzed by the mesmerizing quality of her voice. Still mute, I simply nodded and shut the door behind me as she stepped gracefully away towards an elaborate sideboard carrying the bottle with her. The back of her calf flexed with each delicate step and I imagined running my fingers lightly over that muscle while she lay prone and bound on her stomach across my bed.

"Have a seat." This was tossed lightly, casually, over her slim, bare shoulder as she got out a corkscrew and proceded to open the wine. I shook my head to rid myself of the image of her helpless beneath me and glanced around spying a large, leather couch. As I made my way to the sofa, I couldn't help but notice the elegance and taste of the decor which seemed a bit rich for someone working a temp job, but I said nothing as I took it all in while she poured each of us a portion of the wine. Her dress swirled around her knees as she turned, the hint of a smile was still on her face. "The wine will need to breath a moment."

I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out. Had I been capable of such I am quite sure I would have blushed, but I was too old and had lived to long for such a school girl reaction. Clearing my throat, I finally managed a stutter in a high-pitched, most miserable squeak as she made her way towards me. "Y..yes, of course. We have a few .. we have time." Silently, I cursed my meekness and inability to take command.

Her hands were clasped lightly behind her back which caused her pale breasts to jut the tiniest bit forward beneath the silk of her dress. Her lips were delicately parted showing teeth small and white behind the dark red lipstick and that vein, that blasted jugular vein, was throbbing gently, mocking, calling, begging to erupt from its soft container, cool blue and decidedly delicate. I could not tear my eyes away from it. I was, truly, enthralled in that moment. The blood beneath that pale skin was her life, her inheritance and her legacy. It is the sacared link passed down from the ancient ones through the ages to us then beyond us telling the universe we were, we are, we shall always be.

"How long did you think it would be before you were found, Anna?" She enunciated each word with deliberate care and a foreboding undercurrent filled with contempt, close to hatred. She was standing directly in front of me and the tone more than the question itself, took me out of my trance.

I blinked, confused, my eyes going back to her lovely face. "Wh .. What?"

She was still smiling but the flirty lightness had been replaced by a harsh cold. "We've been hunting you for a very long time. A very long time," this almost whispered.

Then she was on me, a knee in my lap, her hand on my right shoulder and she pushing me back into the sofa before I comprehended what was happening and in the next instant, I felt the wood stab into my heart. My eyes went wide with surprise and I tried to cry out but she brought her lips to mine, silencing me with her kiss, igniting my loins at the same time even as I died. I could smell her blood. I longed to bite her, to drink her, to feed on her but it was too late. The kiss ended and her weight was off me. There it was. The Blood. Dark, red and angry as I knew it would be, as I had seen it so often, as I had caused it so often in others, seeping around the stake. A macabre piece of wooden art staining my starched, white blouse and I stared down, completely fascinated by my own death. I touched the blood and brought my fingers to my nose, inhaling the scent of it then back to my lips to taste it. Far away, I heard her tinkling laughter fading away. I tried to reach out and touch the soft warmth of her cheek with my cold, blood soaked hand but again was too late and for the first and only time in my life and death, I regretted what I was and wondered what else I might have been.
I loved being at my Grandma's house. It was filled with books of every sort and style. Most were old with dog eared corners.. those were the best loved .. but some new as well .. all were touched and read by someone. Oh, the leather bound.. the smells of those and the treasures to be found in small type of rich and satisfying text. There were mysteries and autobiographies and histories of men. There were bibles and paper backs with rules for games of life and chess. Newspapers arrived every day to be read then neatly folded and stacked until some boys came to collect them a few times a year to turn them into something else as their usefulness had ended once their knowledge was consumed.

Things to read surrounded me and BLISS.. I read them all, gobbled like Thanksgiving turkey every day until I got fat and happy upon them.

How can I ever show such a thing as gratitude for this great gift.. a literal library at my fingertips? To keep me fed and happy with my favorite repast offering so much salt and spice that I would have to gorge and gorge again to get my satiation and found it was a hunger that could not be satisfied so I starve and hunt to this day to feed the passion for the print.

Thank you, then, is all I have for my dear and darling Grandma.. so beloved for all she was and did but most for the gifts she shared.. her love for me and her love for books.

1000 Red Dots

I figure 500 needles will work. One red dot on each side of the piercing. Maybe with some weights. Everything already sags so weights aren't likely to make a huge difference at this juncture.

Yup.. that's what I want for my birthday. 1000 red dots.. oh, and my due spankings which I have been working on receiving for 56 years come March. I may count in dog years though.. so, start building upper body strength!

(I've already done the math.. it's really not 'that' many but it's more than a few.)


It just dawned on me that my ass might not be able to cash the checks my mouth is trying to write.


Maybe I should count my smacks in fruit fly years instead? What.. that would be more wouldn't it. I suppose that could work.. sure would teach me a lesson to do diligent research on the life span of the fruit fly.

I'll be back!

edit part deux:

Turns out it's 30 - 50 days if kept around 84 degrees. I'm probably too weird for this world.

I like blood. Rich and deep-dwelling blood brought to the surface and exposed to air proving its chameleon state when removed from its confining flesh. And like inhalation it exalts on air.. oxygen bringing out the darkest colors and pungent smells that can't be duplicated in lab or kitchen. The acrid scent wafts up to hit your nose and you can't help but to inhale, sharply and most would be repelled. Not me. Not me.

I go into a space and spin when time begins when time begins and then begins again.

There's such a coolness there in floaty circles - endless time - It's rather funny in unfunny fashion that when I close my eyes I see the bright pin pricks of stars.. I swear it to be true.. I love that ones own brain can trick them with simple influence and don't we buy it every time. See this, see that! Look here! No, there!

I say.. close your eyes and see it all.. at once .. and don't try to make sense of the sensations you feel.. just feel them.. shhh.. don't be afraid.. don't be afraid.

Its hypnosis.. and the drips and drips and drops and drops of tiny spots of red.. they build and build and then begin to pool in quite small measure. I can never tear my eyes away.. and I never get enough.

That's the thing with blood.. you can't go too far - you never gain oceans.. but small rivers undulating in slow motion down my arm, my breast, my thigh ... those you can and they form stark contrast against my skin and my Pisces nature.. my ying - my yang demand a balance for payment always in equal measure. Blood satisfies such payments due.. and men all know it's true.

Don't blink surprised! Don't scoff or squirm and vomit such swill that you would laugh at me or some perceived delusion. Blood brothers.. to the death is what it truly means. The Contracts from Hell.. sign them in Blood if you please.. such common knowledge that you should lament your own education if you don't know it. And our statues bleed tears and those are miracles. Our rivers run red with blood. We spill the blood of our brothers in war, in peace, in rage for mere molehills ...and for hate made worse by soured love and for little bits of paper colored green. Would you take a blood bath seriously? I would suppose! It's baffling, boggling that we can spill for all but this.. and in this place of darkness where fallen angels hold Sunday Brunches and strangers exchange whip marks for cash that to bleed for pain, for power or for purpose at all is screamed at.. no blood, no blood, no blood!

Meh.. no life then.. how did your mother feed you in the womb but through her blood!

I understand the scary that is eternity and I, like you, don't really know how far back such a thing as bloodlines go (When it began I suppose whenever that was or is to be) but allow me to acknowledge its value to me.. and I shall acknowledge my blood is most or all of useless to you and yet I wish you peace with yours despite the fleshy container you force it to remain within.

'Fraidy cat. ;P