I am a filthy jRocK prostitute

please please please let me touch you just a little maybe for a moment make that a tiny eternity a single second to feel every part of you which screams and bellows in silken tones to melt my defenses and break my every wall the sound of you running up and down my spine I want all of you want to be there past all the barriers into the confines of your sweet shallow river to take but a single drink maybe that means I've gone over the edge now my hands want to remember the sensation of the small of your back as I pull you towards me feel strong gentle hands taking all the woven shields from this body of mine if I continue I might die from it just the feel of something so good makes you wonder if there can be anything else after this ever again all heat and inner light and small secret smiles soon I taste you on my tongue its ambrosia filling my head with that soft glowing radiance I'm almost floating now this is just too damn good.
One day I'll be there and it won't be this but better can you even comprehend that?

ayu(trance expressive)

I am under assault by the sound of synthesized joy, it ensnares my head and heart, pulls apart my tiny body, and scatters me to the four winds in a grievous display of relentless power.
Someday when all minds collapse in on their own supports, and the islands are destroyed in a wave of sound and fury, you will understand me, and you will understand my joy.
For now my strange movements and captured expressions are mystery, to remain so until those dark and delirious days fall upon us.

to the lord and lady

O! My lord, my lady, that I may tremble in earnest supplication before your gracious and glorious presence!!!! Woe be the one who deals you even the slightest deference or disservice in light of these newly revealed factoids of absolute and utter
fucking
insignificance.
your temple is ablaze ashes falling to the ground like snow sorrow crushing your windpipe and choking out your tiny voice the light you ignore is the one that will blind you
the ape of thoth is making faces behind your shuddering back, eyes bulging out in mock horror with your every sweeping gesture the truth you seek out is stained and shattered by your foolish self-centered attempts to subjugate and control it.
I hold in high respect the sharpest point of his sword because he stuck it in me and I actually felt the fucking thing, cram your dogma down my throat and I will vomit it back up, drenching you in the fruits of your glorious labour the light that radiates from behind my eyes is leaving you blind with it's simple beauty and its incredible capacity to illuminate the whole world around me love is too simple a philosophy to be dragged down by the brittle chains of self-assigned power and worth
it's sort of hypocritical to puff yourself up and knock others down at the same time but realize this, I see outside of myself and recognize and love my weaknesses while you remain blind to yours.
LIGHT!!!!!!!!

chaos

I was given a task within the quiet and complete confines of my mind to attempt to describe the chaos concept, to give rules and regulations to the very thing created to defy them. It's art, as simple as that, when you create a work of art, there are no rules you follow, simply choose and seek out what you need to make this thing perfect, whatever that thing may be. Choose to create or destroy or hurt or heal or reveal or simply say what the fuck you feel this is simply a word to describe the method with no method only sweet madness simple psychosis given form and function, do what you have to how you have to do it, don't get caught up in what would be proper or fitting it's what you need nothing more what's perfect for this dance to the depths of a bright and brilliant abyss, this brief connection to the impossible, to the indescribable, to the gods.

the marrow of a bone

dear gods what is this noise I hear this cacophonous wave of screaming and howling and inhuman madness to a beat, such torment and anguish, such power in a message delivered so honestly, like a complete descent in a motion and a movement, no time to breathe between heavy waves assaulting the psychosis and the soul, there is fear unleashed from the heart of this beast, I relish the sensation of gathered energy left after every line, every note, every shrieking guttural word, the attack is made and received in a kind of hideous sonic ecstasy with my eyes lighting up blazing savage joy rapture formed with the message received, solid forms and boundaries destroyed within the mental environment at a glance, intertwining peaks and valleys spiraling towards a sharp and sudden destruction no room for gawking tourists hawking cheap inquiries concerning matters of a truly baseless physical nature, absolutely trivial jibberjabber really, all in all strange reactions to a very powerful piece of work the marrow of a bone speaks of pain or deep wounds maybe random cultural reference no match for that voice in memory pain is too real beautiful

just to let you know...

Now I'm not saying I was pissed off, but the thought of sealing shut your fucking nose with your own badly scarred tissues was a pretty fuckin' happy one.
I'm over that now, so I think I'll just return the favour you did for me, and be a complete cold-hearted cock for as long as I'm still privileged to know you.
Isn't that just sooooo fuckin nice of me?

wow, don't I feel empowered!

I'm out of shame and the sensation is a strange one. I don't know when this phenomena made manifest, but at this point I don't care. There are simply too many activities I take part in that are supposed to be taboo, I no longer invest in this shame crap even on the smallest level, it's a farce from a larger perspective, the act of feeling guilty for something you love, no matter what that thing may be. I think it's something invested in us by our parents, by the environment that created us, like this shame thing is a result born of our desperate efforts at one point or another to fit in. The moments when we did not, the times when we stood out as completely out of sync with everything around us, these are the moments that give birth to the emotion known as shame. It's just too foolish to be indulging in once you come to understand exactly what creates the sensation in the first place. On a higher level of understanding, I simply have no good goddman reason to be wasting time feeling like my life and what's it's composed of is inferior or improper in regards to my peers. Pride in what i do and what I believe in, the next step up from this escape, this rebirth from the death of a society-spawned shame cycle.

teeny tiny moment of clarity

I promised myself (well I didn't really, but it's a nice thought) that I would never go so far as to permanently damage any of my closest companions, no matter how they begged. In reality, I simply haven't the heart to do something so horrible that I can't take it back. Not to say I haven't the heart to do something horrible.
Quite the opposite, you see.
Although the idea of "horrible" is guaranteed to shift in a very drastic fashion from perspective to perspective. Really, what you may call a genuinely despicable act, I might simply deem an act of love, something done to fullfill secretive desires that might otherwise go unrealized. I am a man willing go to great lengths for a good friend, to perform what you may call evil deeds, all in the name of love and trust and mutual understanding.
Although it wouldn't be unreasonable to call me a touch unbalanced for going to these great lengths in the first place. Let's face it, if we were all allowed to act as we truly pleased, this whole bit about what is and isn't acceptable would be a moot point in itself. Most people are simply unwilling to cross that line between desire and destination, to make manifest some of our most potent pleasures, the ones that wake you up in the middle of the night and leave you wondering whether or not you're even completely human for wanting what it is that you do.

Although this could all be irrelevant. Maybe I'm just a sick motherfucker, and maybe whatever I say is simply me attempting to justify my hideously warped ideals. That will be for the final judge, for my maker and master, to decide.

the dance of death act 1

I woke up with these awesome ideas I wanna use and abuse you until I collapse, I've never had a toy that I could train to scream before, this is gonna be so much fucking fun, I'm gonna play with you until the sun comes up, we'll....
yeah that's a good idea.
The gods will not be absent from this celebration. Our sweet union of energy and flesh and soul, punctuated by your gutteral howls, maybe we can make something really interesting out of it. I know some really neat tricks with symbols and circles and lowborn incantations. I know ways to redefine fear, to bring all the old ones rushing to my side as witnesses to our fun. This could be a crowded party, what with all the spirits of the gasping dead pulling at your skin while I stuff you like a fucking turkey and beat you like a bad little girl indeed.
Some would call it perverse. Some would have me burned at the stake. I think that's a terrible way of looking at it. I think how much we love each other will set the sky alight, and everyone in the whole goddamn world will be in awe of this glorious...
...thing that I've made out of a queen.

"I want you more when you're afraid of me"

I don't think we were quite perfectly clear on the gravity of this situation. I'm at a crossroads, you see, wherein I may either submit completely, (the comfort of the leash is a pure one) or allow my dark side total control of the situation. The problem is I don't think the submissive side will succeed here.
I'm certain of this, in fact.
We need rules to this game, borders and boundaries that I may not cross, lest my fiendish desires to see you quaking in terror overcome me completely. A clever fellow such as myself should not under any circumstances be allowed this kind of freedom. Nobody wants to wake up in a fucking motel room across from the walmart wearing nothing but 32 feet of nylon because the expression on their face was so... priceless.
Energy is the fuel of this beast, you see, be it sexual or emotional or spiritual or what have you. Once satiated in this fashion I can and will fuck like a overloaded machine, without mercy or malice or anything at all, a cold stone pillar of duty and determination, no higher goal than to see you broken and bruised and hopefully bleeding internally. The light of life gone from your visage, the crown torn asunder, your current position a cruel mockery of the power you once held.
One day dear, and one day soon, I will break you.
It will be glorious indeed, I think.