pj in my bed

pj

i imagine you

in the still of the night

you lie there, asleep in my bed

and i lie next to you, thisclose

listening to your breathe

i stare at that spot on your neck

…the one that drives me wild for no reason, whatsoever

i want to kiss and nibble and bite you

there

just there

so that you’ll wake up and kiss me

and i will kiss you back

so, it begins

as our bodies play

and sometime, deep in the night

we make love

amongst the pillows and comfort

 

this and that

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It’s a beautiful morning. Outside, the birds chirp and carry on with their tiny labors, making the world a better place by their very existence. It would be a blessing to be like a bird or wolf…to instinctively know, from the very day you are born, that you have a purpose and what that purpose is.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever know what my reason to be is. Yes, I am a mother. But, I believe we’re all here for a reason, so it stands to reason that my boys would have been born of another were I not here. In fact, nothing that I’ve ever done couldn’t have been accomplished by a stand-in, so to speak. It’s humbling…that thought. And it’s why I would like to make the next years of my life more deliberate and conscious than the last I have lived.

He has been dead 39 days now, and I feel as though I’m am beginning to wake up. The Dark Empty is still there. Yet, I am beginning to feel other things, too. Things like strength and perspective. Each day that separates me from his death is filled with less trepidation than the one that came before it. I feel him losing his grip on my mind, and that is a wonderful feeling. My heart still hurts for him. There is grief for the man he once was, as I’ve said before. I feel especially bad that he died the way he did. But I’m proud of him for facing it like a man. Even the doctors said he went into surgery without a tear in his eye. He said, “Let’s do this.” I guess those were his last words. It would be daunting to realize your last moments had finally found you, and to turn towards them instead of begging the Time Keeper for more. I’m proud of him for that. It is the bravest thing he’d ever done. God bless his soul.

*Adult Content ‘Love Bleeds Through’

Ericka had known Clay for years. Around the neighborhood he was known as Big Clay. He was a mountain of a man, all of 6’6″ and 300lbs. He was built like a tree…solid and strong. Clay was the type of man a girl could call on when she needed something fixed around the house. He was a great porch buddy, as well, and the two of them had spent many an evening watching the sun set on the small town they lived in. He’d drink his beer and she’d sip her whiskey. They were good friends.

In time, Ericka began to let Clay know a bit more about herself, on a very personal level. They began sharing the sorts of things that even a best friend wouldn’t know about a person. Sunset after sunset found them in deep conversation about these secret things until, one night, the inevitable happened and they acted upon them. After that night, Clay was Ericka’s pet and she was his Mistress. Their secret, to the grave.

Ericka and Clay had been discussing a play piercing scene for a couple of weeks. They had decided on a relatively high number of needles to accommodate Clay’s desire to push his pain threshold a bit. To make it easier on them both, (Ericka had a ‘thing’ about needles), they decided to use 25g so they’d be much easier to get in and to remove.

In short order, the needles Ericka ordered had arrived and it was a ‘go’ for their much anticipated play time. They decided on an early start, so Clay took off of work at lunch one Friday and went straight to Ericka’s house. She was waiting there for him, in her bedroom, out of her mind with excitement.

Ericka heard Clay the moment he walked through the front door. She grew breathless as his footsteps moved closer to her bedroom. At last, he appeared in the doorway, almost filling it completely. She so admired his strength and size. Clay made her feel so safe whenever he was around. But there was no time for such sentimentality now, as Ericka stood up and walked towards Clay, who was now standing next to the chair she would bind him to. Without a word between them, she began to unbutton his shirt, slowly, so that she could see every single bit of him as it was revealed. His chest was hairy and masculine..and, lower, his belly was flat and hard…no six pack…just the body of a hard working man.

Ericka loved to undress her pet. It was probably her favorite thing to do. Clay was, like every man, an overgrown boy and she enjoyed caring for him in that way. Finally, she pulled his shirt off, revealing his muscular arms, reminding her that this was no boy. Then, she unbuckled his belt, and momentarily knelt down to unlace his work boots and toss them and his socks off to the side. She stood and sighed with anticipation as, finally, she unzipped his jeans and pulled them off of him. His cock was already getting hard, but she refused to touch it. In fact, she had yet to so much as touch her pet’s cock as long as they had been playing together, unless she was performing the CBT that he loved, perhaps a little too much. Clay enjoyed the pain she provided and she enjoyed the fruits of his particular, and well honed, skill set. After play-time, Clay would service Ericka for hours on end, if it pleased her. And, it did please her. Most definitely.

Once he was undressed, Ericka told Clay to sit in the chair, arms flat on the armrests, ankles close to the front legs. She got her wide leather cuffs and strapped his wrists to the chair first. Then, more for drama than anything, she got some old leg irons and chain she found at a flea market to secure his legs with. Clay sat still, a hint of fear in his eyes, along with a wicked gleam. He was smiling the sweetest little trembling smile Ericka had ever seen. God, he made her feel so…something. Next, she grabbed her favorite ball gag and crammed it into his mouth. Clay played at resisting…it was just more fun that way. Ericka moved behind him and tightly buckled the strap. Before Clay knew it, a black pillowcase was pulled over his head. Around his neck, a rough length of rope with a large knot in the middle. The knot was carefully placed over his Adam’s apple and the rope was tied tightly enough to remind him of his predicament each time he swallowed or tried to speak.

Ericka walked across the room and sat at the foot of her bad, enjoying her view of the man at her disposal. She got out her blue latex gloves, popping them on very loudly. She already had the needles laid out on a table by chair Clay was in. Needles…she could barely stand the sight of a needle. “This better be worth it,” she thought, as she got up and walked over to the table. The NEEDLE table. “OMG…”

Ericka quieted herself. She couldn’t have Clay knowing how frightened she was. The room was silent as she ripped open the package containing the first of the needles. Clay started to wriggle a bit at the sound, and his left leg was shaking a little. Ericka leaned down and whispered, “Relax, we’re going to follow the pattern to a T.” With that, she pinched up a bit of skin at the back of his right arm and inserted the needle. A tiny lil drippy drop of blood escaped his skin as she opened up the next needle, and the next, and the next…The further she got down his arm, the more the blood began to add up. Not gushing blood. More like a light summer shower’s worth. Ericka’s mouth began to water as she tried to focus on the arduous task at hand.

It took about two hours to complete the arm lining, front and back on both arms. The inside of Clay’s arms bled much more than the outside and there was much red to be seen. It was beautiful. Clay’s arms were shaking as his body was riddled with endorphins. Ericka popped off her gloves and got out her camera and began to photograph the beauty before her. This Viking of a man, bound and hooded…under  her complete control…it was intoxicating. When she had finished taking the pictures, she allowed herself a few minutes to simply sit and stare at Clay. At that moment, he was the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen.

She excused herself and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When she returned, she gently untied the rope and removed the hood and gag. Ericka lifted the glass to Clay’s lips, stroking his hair as he drank. He was sweating and red faced. Perhaps the pain was more than he bargained for. Ericka sat the glass down and took Clay’s face into her hands. Something was going on between them, she could feel it. When he looked up at her with blue eyes that spoke of both love and strength, she knew that, after today, Clay would never be her pet again.

Ericka ran her fingers up and down Clay’s arms, tracing the bumps that the needles made in his skin. Some blood had already dried. Some was still wet and it was sticky on her skin. She leaned down and kissed Clay in a way that she’d never kissed him before. Then, her lips moved to his ear and she asked on a whisper, “May I?” She would never consider taking  something so precious without asking, after all.

To her delight, Clay whispered back in a quivering voice, “Yes, most certainly.”

She licked the sticky sweetness from her fingers, then began the task of removing the needles. Each came with its own tiny drop, yet again, and Ericka tended to the tiny wounds with her lips and tongue, squeezing each to make certain she got all there was. Clay moaned in pain, but she was in her own world until, finally, the last needle was out.

Ericka’s heart pounded and she was all but overcome with a desire for this man. Again, she kissed Clay, deep and long, as though it was the last kiss she’d ever get. She was just so very hungry for him.. She allowed her hands to roam his body as he sat, still bound. Her hand trembled as it made its way down to Clay’s cock. It was so hard…throbbing…ready. This was it. It  was going to happen this very evening. That thing they had avoided for so very long was going to happen.

Ericka’s head was spinning as she began to unbuckle Clay’s wrist restraints. Her hands, shaking as she knelt before him, once more, trying to unlock his shackles. As soon as he was free, Clay grabbed Ericka and pulled her across the room, throwing her onto the bed. He ripped her blouse open exposing her breasts. Clay took them into his rough hands, his mouth kissing and licking and biting at her nipples. He was breathing so hard that Ericka was almost afraid. He yanked her skirt up and tore her panties off, forcing her legs wide apart as he shoved his big hard cock into her so hard it took her breath away.

Clay continued to fuck Ericka any way he pleased for what seemed like forever. Never, in her life, had a man used her like that. Thankfully, in no time, her fear gave way to resignation, then to pleasure, as she joined him in this exercise in unbridled lust. When she thought that she could take no more, Clay shot his load deep inside of her. She wrapped her legs around him as he collapsed on top her of, and she held him closer than she’d ever held anyone.

After a short while, Clay got up without saying a word. Ericka didn’t know what to think…what she should think. She got out of what remained of her clothes and climbed under the covers. She could hear Clay in the kitchen, drawers opening and closing, the sound of silverware clanking around…the fridge opening and closing. Finally, she heard footsteps coming back down the hallway. Clay walked towards the bed, a glass of juice in one hand, and a large shiny knife in the other. He sat the knife down on the nightstand and handed Ericka the juice. “You could probably use this”, he said, grinning. Ericka drank the juice, but couldn’t quite take her eyes off of the knife, long after Clay had taken her close into his arms. Now and then, the breeze would blow the curtains and the evening sun would shine in and sparkle on the blade of the knife. Ericka found the whole affair unnerving, except that she was so taken with Clay that it simply didn’t matter at that point.

Lying in his arms was definitely not a bad thing. Ericka had never felt so whole or so wanted. As they lay there together, Clay’s hands began to explore her body, but gently this time. His kiss was soft and loving. Knowing how sore she was, Clay made sure to kiss it all away as he entered her, once more, with his huge swollen cock. Ericka was in sheer bliss as he slowly moved back and forth, and she, against him. She had never experienced this before.She’d never felt so very womanly…so spiritually engaged…

Just when she thought she could not get another thing out of this, Clay reached over and picked up the knife. He rose up off of her for a moment and put the blade in his hand. Suddenly, he closed his hand around it and pulled the knife out. Ericka could see the red on the blade. She gasped, her mind racing. Then, just as suddenly, Clay put the knife down and offered his bleeding hand to Ericka, putting it to her lips. She grasped his wrist and began to take from the wound. Clay began to make love to her again as she took from him that most precious thing. As she did, she realized that she had not only found her true love, but her soul mate…her happily ever after.

Clay’s gentle stroke brought her to sheer ecstasy, just as the wound had given its last. When she could take no more, Clay unloaded inside of her again. As he did, he kissed her scarlet lips and whispered an oath so sublime that she’d dare not repeat it. But, from that day on, Clay and Ericka shared every sunrise and sunset.

Metallica Time

Jay2For a period of time, when he was about 15, my youngest son moved out of our home and in with friends. They lived in a drug infested, dilapidated apartment complex and we rarely spoke. Every week or so, I’d call and he’d actually answer. I’d say, “Metallica time?”, and he’d reply, “Okay”. That meant that it was okay for me to come pick him up for a visit. But, since we couldn’t speak to one another during that time without fighting, he’d get in the truck and we’d put on the Metallica Black album and crank it up. I’d take him to get a coke and we’d drive the loop that circled our town until the album was over. We’d sing…play air drums…just exist together. It was an indescribable blessing for me, as a mother of a drug addicted child, to have even one thing that we could relate to as one. This is our favorite song on the Black album, even now.

Don’t Call It A Comeback

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It’s been a lil minute since I posted anything, really. A few weeks, I think. A lot of…life, I guess…has gone on . Good things and bad things. Although, at this point in my life, it is increasingly difficult to distinguish between the two, since so many lessons are learned from those bad things. Lessons that I deeply value. There is also an ever-growing understanding inside of me that my very worst day would be considered a lovely day by someone else in this world. In light of that, what do I really have to complain about?

One bad thing that I have yet to manage to learn from is living with constant, sever, pain. Honestly, I’ve had about all I can take of it. I hate the pain, I hate the meds, I hate the whole thing. A few weeks ago, I ran out of my primary pain medication. I actually looked at it as a good thing, initially. I took the situation as an opportunity to try to another approach to dealing with pain since I hate taking that medication. It dulls me…changes me in ways that have a negative impact on my life. So, I thought I’d try something new and different. Think outside the box and what have you. I thought that I might actually be able to meditate the pain away. That did not work at all, so I moved on to wishing it away. Still, no luck. After that, I simply pretended that  it wasn’t  there every second of the day. Mind over matter. THAT DID NOT WORK. For once, I have encountered something that I cannot simply power through, no matter how badly I’d like to.

Went to visit Mom and my grandfather. While I was there, I visited the doc as a walk-in that Monday. I couldn’t wait for my appointment to get some relief. My doc wasn’t in, so I saw another one. Dr. L. First off, I had to take a drug test for the first time. People who take scheduled meds are now required to take drug tests. If you don’t have the prescribed drug in your system, what are you doing with it? It’s a legit question, considering that my forty dollar bottle of meds has a twelve hundred dollar street value. Even so, it feels demeaning and invasive. It feels like judgement, which it’s not. After that, it was a bit of a wait while they processed my test. The nurse came back to inform me that I had passed. What? Okay…I think.

The nurse explained the importance of drug testing, in the context of all the new DEA regulations. Were the DEA to review my file and see that I had not been drug tested, the clinic could be sanctioned in some way, and my doctor could be severely disciplined. Seriously. The DEA? Those silly bastards can’t keep crack out of our elementary schools, but they’re going to spend their time harassing legit doctors and the patients who need them? While I’m aware of the huge problem with these meds being sold on the street, I still find the situation laughable. I went out of my way to find a doc that was not in any way associated with pill distribution. My doc has no ‘rep’. She’s a good doctor who believes that pain drugs were made for a reason and that there is no shame in prescribing them , nor is there any shame in taking them. (We had that conversation one day after I explained how embarrassed I feel when I get meds filled sometimes). In any case, I was happy to be on the verge of getting a much needed break from this pain.

I went to Galveston to get my prescriptions filled. I drove down the seawall for a Sonic coke while I waited. Tourists crowded the island. I had all but forgotten how crowded that place could get on a holiday weekend. The water was choppy and mud brown, and the wind was blowing like crazy. But it was nice to see all those shiny happy people. I really miss that place, since moving up here to tree country.

The morning flew by and, before I knew it, it was noon and I was almost back to Mom’s house. She had a really nice lunch laid out…fried chicken and a garden salad. She always makes things special when I’m visiting. While I was doing the doc/med thing, she was getting mink eye lashes put on. I noticed how amazing they looked as we talked over our lunch. Grandad just sort of sat there, not really in the room at all. He’s gotten so old. At ninety, he’s earned the right to ignore our girl talk and just enjoy his meal. But, I do worry about him. In the last year, the signs of age have really begun to set in in terms of his mental state. In his mind, he’s still a Marine and can handle anything. In reality, he has a heater by his chair because 73 degrees is too cold for him in the house.

After lunch, still not having time to shower, I piled on some makeup and tried to do my hair. It was so hot in that house. Even Mom was complaining about it, but she and I both agreed that Dad’s comfort came first. So…sweating it was! lol!

I got my trip back home underway, making a stop to meet a friend. I was embarrassed by my appearance. I’m already a large woman, but I normally look well groomed. Not so much that day! Dear GAWD! It was just the most uncomfortable feeling I can think of. I was in the clothes that I’d slept in the night before, since Mom spilled her Monster drink all over my clean clothes. It had taken so long at the doctor that I didn’t have time to stop and get my nails done, so I recycled the ones from last time. I’m telling you…the whole thing was just…OMG! Plus, there is a weird smell in my truck. Exish and I have been trying to find its source for weeks now. I have no idea what is. I’m actually afraid to find out. Yep…it’s THAT bad. When it was all said and done, I was never so happy to get back on the road home…here…the boonies.

And that, dear people, is that.

flatlined mind

18212_466247320191578_8133312022347814956_nI got pain meds today. I took one when I got home a short while ago and, already, I feel the numbness seeping into my mind. The pain is subsiding, thank God. Sweet reprieve! My fingers move around the keyboard as they should, no constant pushing of the ‘back’ button. But my thoughts are dumbed down…vacant…as the medication hits my system after being off of it for three weeks.

I don’t know why people become addicted to this shit. Even when you need it, it doesn’t make you happy. Of course, you feel relief from the pain, and that’s a wonderful thing. But, at what price? For me, it takes almost as much as it gives. I’ve always been a writer. Throughout my life, writing has helped me through the worst situations…explained things to me from a previously blank page that I could not, before, understand, even though those very answers were in my head the whole time.

When I see news about some new pill mill getting shut down, or about how so many people are addicted to certain pain meds, I shake my head in disbelief. Why would anyone want to take this shit if they didn’t have to? How do you get addicted to something that makes you a zombie? The same could be said for many other types of drugs, as well. For me, it’s a godsend. Without a certain pain drug, my life takes on a shade of pain that fluctuates from grey to black throughout my days and nights. I so resent those bastards that abuse pain meds because they make it difficult for people like me to get them. Legally. Let’s face it, for every legal way to get any drug, there’s an illegal way to get it. But I’m not down with that. I’m just saying…it is a fact of life here in Los Estados Unidos.

I will say that I am looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Silver lining!

Words Flow, Hearts Flutter

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the screen shines brightly

and, there, i find him

a man

he’s dreamy and sweet

kind and good

his heart beats with the love of tradition

heritage

manliness

words on a screen

explain to me this man

whom i do not know

never intend to meet

because a man like him

well, he deserves someone special

someone shiny and happy and trusting

someone who will take his breath away

but when we chat

i feel something

something lost along the way

found again, new

and…and i wish i knew

how to be that shiny happy beautiful thing

that he so richly deserves

but that’s just not me

yet

For My Son, Lumpy

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I get it. You never thought I did, but I did. I understood. You. But I didn’t understand the dope. Back when dope had you in the palm of its hand…cradled in its arms as though you were its child. You were my child. Then, now and forever: Mine.

You’ve been relatively clean for what, six years now? God…it still seems like yesterday when you were out of your young mind. You were so fried from all the shit you put into your body. And I tried to stop you until you fucking hated me. You weren’t alone. I hated myself for not being able to save you.

You know, I still lose sleep over you. I jump up when I hear what I think is a car door at an odd hour. When the door closes and it sounds a little ‘off’, I start to cringe, heart racing, wondering what just walked in. Some nights, when I can’t sleep, I find myself looking out of the window, as if you’re coming home. I check the locks all the time, in case one of your homies, or one of your enemies, decides to barge in. When someone drives by the house too slow, I get down low. Just in case.

I thank God every day that you walked away from dope. It had to happen before you ended up in the ground. And, even though the path of destruction left in your wake is wide and there are wounds yet to heal, I wouldn’t give anything for the you who is you now. The fight was worth it. Even though I had nothing to do with you kicking, I don’t regret a thing because you’ll always know that your mother never stopped fighting for you. When you were at your lowest point, and were too young to realize it, I was there, holding it down for you.

When I hear this song, I always remember those days. Because you were just young and lashing out. You had your ideals…imagined things worth fighting for. You and your weirdo friends. I swear, when I see someone slinging dope on the street, even now, it is all I can do to keep myself from running them down. Fuckers. Sorry fuckers. And gangsters? Oh, please. Little bitches, one and all. And, yes, I know you’d die if you knew how I talk to them. And, yes, one will probably shoot my old ass one day. But you know what? Fuck em. They’re all nothing but rats and I call em out every chance I get. They should be exterminated before they fuck up another family.

Well, kid…that’s about it. I’m happy you’re not Lumpy anymore. I’m happy to have J back in my life. I’m happy to watch you parent that adorable grandson you gave me and I’m forever thankful that God picked me to be your mother.

Someday, I’ll Find You

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i want to be a beautiful thing

fragile and worthy

innocent

clean

in your eyes

i want to be a play thing

a fun thing

a walk in the park

i want to be a your playground

today, as i look into my future

i don’t see so much as your face

but i can feel you

as you live your life

searching

for a beautiful thing

an innocent thing

as you long for a reprieve

and yearn to linger

in a playground made just for you