The Fucking of Minds

When forming your perception of a situation, keep in mind that things are not always as they appear. What you see and hear may be illusionary; designed to deceive. The only reality, in this case, is the one you interpret for yourself from the information you've been given.

A mind fuck is one of those, almost hallucinatory, concepts that is hard to explain accurately as its nature is so elusive.


-provoking uncertainty and tension

-when a person is not able to discern what is happening without making a serious attempt to decipher the connections between parts

-concept or argument which is fraught with contradictions, and is used as a control tool

-an idea or concept that shakes one's previously held beliefs or assumptions about the nature of reality

-a technique that uses misdirection to lead to an ending that is at first glance completely unexpected or contradictory, but is coherent and reasonable given hindsight and careful observation of the clues presented


And why is this so erotic? Simply because the person doing the fucking needs intelligence enough to achieve this without the other person understanding what is happening....the ultimate control, the ultimate deception.

There is no more seductive trait in a Dominant male than a brilliant mind; a man who knows how to utilize his intelligence in a way that erotically manipulates and stimulates his partner, allowing him to take her on a journey to a place of his choosing.


Photo by Max Sauco

The Journey

It's as though you are walking through a tunnel; there is light at both ends so you are able to navigate through fairly easily without getting lost....but all of a sudden you are thrown into the shadows by a life-altering event, the death of a loved one, illness, divorce, a self-epiphany of some kind; the shadow is so dark and so large that the light at one end of the tunnel is blocked....you struggle toward the light but it is difficult to see and you stumble, again and again; it hurts, in fact, it really hurts....you cry, get up, keep walking....fall again. And then, a hand appears out of the darkness and reaches out to you; you take it gratefully and start walking again and you realize that the other end of the tunnel is clear and brightness has been restored, you are happy and continue on your journey until the next life-altering event occurs, and the shadow returns....

But one day you realize that the times you've spent in the shadows are the periods of your life you have gained the most from.....learned the most important lessons; reaped the richest personal rewards, and you remind yourself to never again be frightened of the dark, for the darkness holds within it the very brightest light....all you need to do is find it.


Photo by Max Sauco

Go Ask Alice

I feel as though I am always on the edge of some precipice, looking down; trying not to fall off before I decide whether I need to leap, jump, or simply let go....

Tick tick tock,
sound of the rabbit's pocket watch
and him mumbling something I can't quite catch
late, late, late, date, date, date.
Chase ensues
and down we go.
He is gone
and I am free,
my past falling away,
mirages melting into moments,
moments melting into me,
falling, falling, falling.

II: Descent

When I tell the story later
I will point out
that the terror wasn't the falling,
the euphoria growing
with each downward spiral.
It was the thought of landing
that filled my heart with fear.
My hands reaching
for the walls of the cavern
to cling for dear life
ended up only bruised and torn.

III: Wonderland

Strange new world,
the landscape is a cacophony
of off beat metaphors that fall apart
when taken to their natural conclusions.
It's hard to know what to make
of those colored glass bottles
labeled drink me.
If this is all a dream
their meaning doesn't matter.
If this is real
one must ask different questions.

IV: Caterpillar

When I figure out the mushroom,
the nuances of big and small,
I will write to you,
set my words to paper.
And will it then be real,
the loving you I mean?
Or was the falling but a dream?

V: Tea Party

Clean cup. Move on...
Move on...
The urge to dislodge the dormouse
and take his place
is nearly overwhelming
and my life is merely a house of cards
at the verge of tumbling around my head
I expect the red queen to yell:
not "off with her head"
but "off with everything."

VI: Waking

If I wake,
I will be left curled on the bank
of a clear babbling brook
with ropes on my wrists.
But, if this is real
I have lost the rabbit
and found the ability
to transform myself
and live my life ad absurdum

Postludes

I: In the Morning

The truth is
This is a dream,
has always been a dream,
stolen madness,
a story borrowed
for the glory of strangeness.
You, what you did to me last night,
none of it is real.

II: Conversation with Alice

Ask Alice how the letting go feels,
the waking.
Perhaps she'll tell you
it is a welcome relief to return home.
Or perhaps she'll wax poetic
about innocence lost,
how the waking brings with it
the inability to see what isn't real.
Then she might ask:
"In the end, when your choices
are follow the talking rabbit into dreams
or cling to the safe river banks of your life
what will you choose?"


Words by CharliB. and someone named anonymous.

Does He Know

Does he know how badly I want to...
Drink in his darkness
Live within the depravity of his mind
Be swept away by the force of his hands
Drown in the pools of his black eyes
Sate his ferocious appetite
Respond to the command of his words
Inhale his very essence
Surrender my breath to him
Realize all his twisted desires
Consume his bodily fluids
Excite his carnal desires
Cry within his embrace
Live.

Drops of You

You rain on me.
I am forever wiping the drops of you from my face;
today I thought I might drown
as your drops became an ocean
suffocating me into submission,
so that I might float.

The Take-Down

He says...

I will break you...
knock down your walls
one by one
take you down down down
to ground zero
that scary place, where your fantasies reside

I will drag you...
into the chasm of darkness
and rip you to shreds
reducing you to nothing
but a sodden pile,
of wailing tears

I will push you over the edge...
not worrying about your descent,
or hesitating in my take-down,
for my strength grows...

as your walls crumble,

as our bond deepens,

as I help you travel,

to the place you need to be.


and then...

I will rebuild you
hug by hug;
kiss by kiss
with loving care
and conscientious effort
my little girl will know,
she has finally arrived.

Ticky Tacky Mentality

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

Please take me now, away from here...
away from this life that I no longer fit
or perhaps, that no longer fits me
Whisk me into the unknown,
for I have been in brightness far too long
and I yearn to reach for something that I cannot quite grasp
to be pushed and pulled;
dragged forward into a different world,
of people willing to explore beyond the boundary of "normal"
an alternate existence
please show me the life
that is outside my door.

Music for Little Boxes can be found here

Words and music by Malvina Reynolds

Hurting the One you Love

Can I write about how the man who loves me, wants to hurt me,
and the difficult time that I am having coming to terms with that idea.

Can I write about the fact that I want him to hurt me,
and the difficult time that I am having coming to terms with that idea.

Can I ask why this fascinates me so?
Because it does; I am completely mesmerized and captivated by the concept of the one who adores and cares for me, taking pleasure in causing me discomfort and pain.

Can you tell me please, why this is so very erotic?

I can write poems about it,
and read about it,
and talk about it,
but still....
I do not understand,
and still....
I am bewitched, bewildered, intrigued, starvacious,
wanting,
NEEDING,
him to love me tenderly,
and hurt me harshly.

Can you tell me please, why this is so very erotic?

Furious Child

Sometimes....
I hate you
for causing me to ache so desperately
my body a fountain of flowing need
filled with desires that twist this mind into previously unimaginable directions

sometimes....
I hate you
for giving me pause to question so thoroughly
this life I currently inhabit
and the lack of nourishment it affords

sometimes....
I hate you
and want to jump on your body and beat you with my fists
scream my rage at your face;
shout my anger in your ear

often....
I love you
for understanding when,
your furious child's capitulation
needs nothing more
than your particular brand of subjugation