RastaMuse

This is a song for the genius child.
Sing it softly, for the song is wild.
Sing it softly as ever you can -
Lest the song get out of hand.

Nobody loves a genius child.

Can you love an eagle,
Tame or wild?
Can you love an eagle,
Wild or tame?
Can you love a monster
Of frightening name?

Nobody loves a genius child.

Kill him - and let his soul run wild.

Langston Hughes

girl craves a Daddy.

Fate gave her a cold, oppressive man,

"I hope you know what you're doing, because you arent coming back."

Genetics gave her a stranger in denial of any paternal status.

"I'm not convinced you're even mine."

*Fuck you, i'll make my own way.

bitch craves the Dom who will lead.

"take me," she pleads. her eyes challenge.

"banish the ugliness because i dont know

where i end and it begins."

bitch yearns to lean after years of leading.

*Primal screaming behind porcelain mask.

brain craves understanding.

Ever older than her years.

"why bother with college- get more hours."

Educated idiots," hayseed plowboy said with a sneer

"why do you talk like that- to look smarter than everyone else?"

*Listen cretin, there's a word for everything.

Shhh.

What other voices lie within?

I try to talk, and can only whisper.

I attempt to scream and only a hiss escapes.

I look down at my hands and see

that the inevitable, the feared

has happened.

The invisibility cloak was thrown over

my shoulders

and envelops the spirit

the will

and i

 am

Today was a day spent without his voice, without his words in my head, without the laughing that accompanies the tie that binds me to Him. He wasnt feeling well, and i yearn for the day that i can care for him and not have the miles between us.

He has challenged my excuses for not caring for my health, and i have spent the last two days on a walking regimen. The ache of the muscles is a welcome twinge in lieu of the feel of his hands on my flesh. i feel empowered to regain myself, because he demands nothing less. i yearn to be healthy and happy for him, for Him to be pleased with me and my efforts.

Master2Blk, i missed you today! 

"What kind of a slut would waste an erection?!" Master asks.

"Not yours," i reply with a smile.

"Good answer." He joins me in laughter.

i cant wait to join him, to join with him, to feel his hands, lips and passion that exudes from him. i have been waiting for him, feeding my hunger with flesh substitutes who offered varying degrees of Mastery. These men and their egos, their ineptitude, erected walls that this Master, the Master, views with contempt.

"help me" i begged him and he shook his head. "this is yours. only you can fix it."

Master is the smartest man i have known, but he is wrong in this instance. (Shhh, dont tell him!) He IS helping me repair my soul with his strength and determination and relentless pursuit of clarity.

Last night, I gave in to the ugly and my cool running Master lost his cool. He let me writhe on the verbal hook until i could only dangle helplessly. "Uncle!" i cried and fled to my room. But the lesson was not imparted until he felt he was through and i crawled to his feet in submission. For an introvert who believes in self-understanding, he has held me to a higher standard than i even hold myself.

And today, this sweet Man tells me that he helped an elderly neighbor, but "Don't you dare cawl ME hunney!"

i  call him Master.

xo

I am up late tonight with work tomorrow, and i have promised Master to awaken him at 3 am so he may drive a friend to the airport. We are up later than usual as he chose to manage my female insanity and reframe insecurities in a way that is surely tiresome and nonsensical to his cool running mantra. Mine is a hot stagger in comparison, and i yearn to be in his presence and breathe the calm from his pores like the first waft of lilacs from the garden. 

He challenges the excuses that fall from my mouth in a torrent and without their protection i am mute to his questions. Still his lion's paw prods me for an answer until i can only cry with the realization that my life is a farce. 

He knows security and his role, and i am seeking to define mine in a way he does not comprehend. As a slave, as his slut, what do i mean to him?

i am afraid of becoming invisible.

Master and i discussed terms today- the definitions of slut and whore and bitch, and added the synonyms of doxy and minx to our linguistical toolbox. i, however, am still uncertain about the use of the word "Holla" because of the staid and introverted bubble in which i have resided for 38 years.  +sigh+ i think i am his coffee table curiousity.

He is permeating my mind and body with his velvet voice and easy laughter and probing questions. "you do not have men issues," he told me this morning as i lay in the tangle of my sheets, "you have intelligence issues." And i like that reframe. He will take me apart and rebuild me stronger.

We had a movie day yesterday where i watched two films he recommended and i loved them- the depth of the stories and the intricate plots and symbolism. We are on the same page on so many levels. i am recognising that my mind and pucci are in agreement as well, and that is overwhelming.

i have fought so long to be strong and all i yearn for in the touch of his hand and his taste... i want to wrap his hair around me and suck his lips and feel his cock inside of me..until then i welcome his discussions and revel in the laughter and fall asleep with the most extraordinary knowlege...

He scented fresh blood

from old wounds

Watched her thrash in her confines

until she recognized His countenance

from her dreams.

she gathered her tatters and

laid herself at His feet.

He turned her ideas over in His hands

to polish their rough edges.

He challenged her boundaries

and held a mirror to her soul.

she took her place at His feet

and wore His ownership like a

crown of jewels.

5.29.11

5.28.11