Our loony tune life

This is something a bit different, I always talk about communication so here is an example of a letter, well poem I wrote to express to my sub how I was feeling. Open and honest feelings are important so I will give everyone a look at how it works for me.

I am trying to say it without causing a fight

To not make it sound like you are wrong I am right

I need to tell how I feel before things explode

I also know that much is to be said for how it is told

Things change as time moves on this, I understand well

How do I share what is becoming a personal hell?

I think I clearly expressed what is on my mind

Dreams and ideas that make me feel crazy all the time

What I want, what I think what I feel, words fail me

Never before have they, maybe because it is insecurity

Yes your logic is sound, but the idea keeps sniffing around

There must be a solution before I lash out or drown

How odd to me, this never would have been an issue before

There is a huge difference, you I love and adore

The hiding, lying and cheating all stopped with you

Even secrets are not a thing to have for us two

Now I am the keeper of secrets again, I don’t know why

I damaged you more than your injury when I made you cry

I ripped your soul open because that locked place in your mind

I could not just accept some things should be left alone for all time

I have cried myself to sleep many times in quiet frustration

For my unforgivable acts there is no proper compensation

I am far from the thing you met, you have changed much in me

I remember the destructive beast I once was happy to be

Shallow and self-serving, ungrateful for gifts given in love

The change so slow I did not notice it till I felt a nudge

The Texas sized mistake as she came with pretense to play

I never forget how angry you seemed that things went that way

I attract the crazy so often that is true, she was just another

I felt guilt I missed the sign hurting you to play with some other

Flirting and flaunting have subsided for the most part online

The beast side openly shown to keep them away from my line

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What has come of us, will we be the old couple that stares over tea?

Glory days behind as we feel the coming inevitability

Scratching days off the calendar, sharing the stories once again

You remember the time when we, oh yeah, well mind hearing it again?

I am angry inside, we are not supposed to wither and die

Maybe it is just me filled with my arrogance, vanity and pride

I am angry with Laura, shattered a situation I had hope in

I am angry with Covid as it has forced un into isolation

I am angry with myself for wanting to feel alive again

I am angry with your injury and not being able to play again

Other forces bear down from outside, I feel contempt for the world

My mother, brother and so much more like darts are hurled

I know I am petty and ungrateful because I want so much more

I promise you this when I leave each day I will come back through the door

You are my heart and soul, this will ever be true for all time

Please be patient with me as I share the things that are on my mind

Wicked Wednesday

 

7-30 The world we know

A thimbleful of madness mixed with the dregs of life, such a bitter wine

No such elegance to behold in this disheveled existence in time

Know no simple task has been given for the forgotten and downtrodden

Civility long ago forged now a memory in the mist dead and rotten

Time as these see goodness poisoned like an apple injected with poison

Greed and lust flow free and flesh is the only commodity within reason

Reason, oh it is unreasonable to look for it here, in the valley of filth

Climb and desecrate the dreams once held as pure, give in to wealth

Little else matters in this putrid festering realm, sell your body and mind

Tendrils sliding along the edges waiting to pluck dreams left behind

No taboo so vile it is not be dreamt, the dream a growing haunting need

Slithers in the bed of the dreamer it latches in place of dreams now dead

Fallow field of a broken mind, plowed by the vile broken creatures left behind

Seeds of lust, greed and desire tilled deep sprout into a thick choking vine

The tempting fruit that hangs just past the tips of starving lips, so inviting

Look but do not touch, touch but do not taste, taste but do not enjoy imbibing

If it were some sickly pallor it would not have such appeal to lure

Monsters the masses cry out but not one amongst them is pure

Rotten to the core as their cry for punishment of the one who tasted desire

A scapegoat now shackled and brought to the center for a symbolic pyre

The masses lusty cries for blood to be spilt ascending to a fevered pitch

Each chanter harboring personal desire that slithers yet is held in check

Rage for the one who dared to imbibe and enjoy, even become intoxicated

Rules they scream as the shackles hold them back, their venom placated

Morality mingles with mortality stones fly in a self-loathing sea of humanity

Found guilty by the corrupt the scapegoat now bludgeoned at their need

At the reading of the charged, the exposing of the crime to live outside rules

A seed falls and takes hold in the soft fertile soil of another in its youth

Walking home the seed is watered as spying eyes see a pleasing thing

Will this vine take hold and grow or be a hidden withered seedling?

7-29

Yeah well it is time for some of my twisted side. As always it can trigger the sensitive reader. If you are under 18 get lost, this isn’t for you.

Shattered and bleeding on the floor, curled up desperate

The twisted reality crashing all making plans turn to shit

Nothing to do but take it, wait it out, just react to the next blow

Fucking hate how it comes and comes without hopes glow

Hemorrhaging dreams beyond recovery do a death twitch

An increasing need growing like an incessant itch

Just to feel alive, to know it will come to a head

How to go on with what feel like a land of the lost and dead

Turbulent thoughts cloud clear rational reality

Clawing in a land of nightmares, sail on the bloody sea

Blistered hands gripping the rope, climb again, climb

Wary bones exhausted muscles running out of time

Impossible possibilities dangle just a fingertip away

Falling again, like a wounded animal left on display

Shattered, angry, screaming inside and snapping everything

Fuck it, what is there left to do when it is all in flame

Positive negativity eating like acid on the flesh

Nothing left but a husk flopping like a dying fish

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Scraping and clawing it has awakened from slumber

Now consumed with an endless gnawing hunger

Petulant flesh so weak when such power is roused

The surge of power washing aside the weak shroud

Finger to the sky, I am the despised and hated

Filled with needs that can be fed but can never sated

Laughing as they fear what goes bump in the night

It is the friendly smile that will bring a true fright

Intoxicated on the scent of fear the masses secrete

One on one is when it becomes a real treat…

In The Fog

The snap of a twig, dark sunken eyes now in view
A tip of the hat, the predator comes into view

The grey of the fog turning on the water like a sprite dancing

Stretching out its tendrils like a beast reaching

In the whirl a form slowly comes and goes

Mushrooms? Maybe a stick, oh wait are those…. Toes?

A foot bare except for the caked on mud that clings

The fog thins and slowly reveals more of the scene

Calf so pale in the dim light, or maybe not

The litter of leaves cover the insidious spot

Pushing the litter back a form starts to appear

Eyes hollow, glazed, filled with a final fear

Tattered dress offers no cover in this final place

Bruises and blood cover the once angelic face

Marks of a struggle mar the ashen flesh all over

Was it a villain, a predator, or a jilted lover?

Truth is that this was no accident that happened

Her body the object of something partially planned

A locket still attached around the bruised throat

Only the faint smell of death, the body yet to bloat

The snap of a twig, dark sunken eyes now in view

A tip of the hat, the predator comes into view

The cloak pulled tight to not reveal the true form

Still in all it was old tattered and well worn

Looking on as if gazing at a lover sleeping in bed

So many questions fill my spinning head

A large sack he now takes out of his black bag

Leaning down he caresses the ever still head

Hands push away the debris laying all about

Tenderly picking up the form and kissing its mouth

With care he puts the prize in the bag and lifts

Turning again towards me and with another hat tip

The fog rolls in and swallows the scene

Was it real or was it just a dark dream?