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I love the


how to
can’t even


feelings. Oh my god, the feelings we get sometimes, and I’m not talking about the emotions that can arise from situations, more the physical sensations that we can make occur within our fleshy bodies.

Flicking back to last Friday. I spent about 3 hours with an all encompassing hood-mask on. And I can hardly remember anything about it, because I was not meta-thinking. I was just in the darkness of my eyes, with a tiny beam of light sometimes sharding through the holes in it under my nose, my only link to life at that time, if my playmate were to leave his hand on it a few seconds too long... I also had duct tape around my mouth, forbidding my speech, the glue slowly loosening from my sweat. I was in no hurry for it to come unstuck.

Or before, or after when I didn’t have the hood on, but my arms were bound behind my back, my ankles were shackled to a cane, legs spread. Any movement meant contact with the carpet. Transitioning from kneeling to lying tummy down meant scrapping my face on the soft, blue fibrous carpet. As any kid playing knows, carpet burns. I had ample enough reasons for my cheeks to flare red, but this was the main one. It also meant trusting my abs to hold my body long enough to cushion the fall, my arms not being allowed to hold my back, my Player mercifully held my shoulders and lowered me softly.

I often think safewords should be renamed to dangerwords, to express what they truly are. I use all other words while I’m good, I use no, I use stop. Say it’s too much, say I can’t take it. But when I say Red. That’s it, that’s my mind milliseconds before freaking out like it does during my night terrors. Red is arms flalling trying to fly before the fall. That's a dangerword. Safewords should be inching the other on, the “No don’t do it” implicitly but quite overtly to anyone in the know saying OMG YES PLEASE.

A poem of two pens.

Listening to his intoxicating laugh through his chest consuming the room
Feeling like I am melting into an oasis with no escape.

Every turn being more and more indulging with no way out.
The pink Himalayan salt light is all we see if not each other and the darknenss
It's carnal and intuitive
It's all I want and nothing more
I can pretend it's love and cry
Then once I'm crying I'm not pretending
And it's all I want, it's the green eyed monster. He wants something that I'm not able to gasp.
I'll show off to his friends because that's who I am and for once, I don't want anyone else, I can dance with him. His body his hair his fingers all night. But what I don't know he doesn't want this. He just wants a connection that's electric and a gaze that can not be broken.
As long as his smell is there I'm good, it paralyses me, having my heart in my throat. That's how I know I don't want any one else.
Now I'm content. Now I'm a peace. I know what I want.

Lack of sleep is cold. It's like screaming from inside a sound proofed walk-in freezer.