I seen the diplodicus

and it seen me.

I took my friends to the science and to the natural history museum today. They were in town for weekend and that's what they wanted to see. That sounded fine, because I love it in the museums.
But I ended up feeling really sad though.
My lover, the guy I'm not seeing, who doesn't exist, and to whose family I do not belong, is bringing his kids up to London for the half term weekend. There were discussions about meeting him. Where, for how long, How in general?
One of the half crazed discussions was; how can I come with him and kid/s to the museums? How could I look non threatening, unnoticeable?
And of course it's not going to happen. Because it's insane.
So I found that looking round my favourite museums, with a happy couple in tow, surrounded by other peoples happy families, and boisterous children, killed me.

I was hoping that one of my friends was coming round this evening. No wait, I had arranged to see him, and he's let me down. Which is pretty much typical.
I am so sad though, and really could have done with a bit of company. Small hug. Gossip about something else.

for you

although you wont watch

I unwrap my hair
unpin it and let it fall

and count
8

two socks
baggy jeans
pink knix
black bra
red vest, wide straps
long sleeve top, cream
red sweater, fitted

plus blue belt
earrings
nose stud (doesn't count)

I take off my sweater
for you sweetness, and if you could look, you would see me
peel it off my ribs and get my hair tangled up with the neck hole

remove my tops
cream then red
and chuck them both in the wash basket

you can see my bra now, and through it,
if you're looking
and maybe you'll notice my earrings, hanging almost to my bare shoulders.

the earring go next,
left one first
leaving tiny holes besides the silver hoops
those stay, but you know that.

the jeans have to go too
it isn't easy to get that waistband past my hips
I can see how your face would be
watching the (faintly ludicrous) wiggle and stretch

I wish I'd put on better pants for you
but I didn't know you'd be coming along
so they're massive... and petal pink
I had to tie a knot in the side to keep them up
they come off next

now I match
black lacy bra with the socks
black
knee high
with a thin white line around the top,
just, here....

can you see what else I'm still wearing?
along here...up from there....
to my belly
do you like the fur sweetness?



what would you like babe?
it's all for you,
you know

musing on photography

My brother gave me a bunch of software. One bit is for data recovery-sort of.
He suggested that I install it and use it to rumage around my own computer, so I can get used to how it works. I did this and duly discovered all kinds of shit i had forgotten about. Photos are especially noticeable, because they are easily visible as you scroll through the junk, and I think that I've realised something.
I have hardly any photos of my current boyfriend.
I have pictures of my Ex, lots of them. I remember wanting pictures of him, thinking he was lovely, that I could just eat him up, it makes me smile to see them and remember nice times we had.

I have pictures of the guy I am currently 'not seeing', stashed in various places, they make me all squishy to look at. Warm, and naughty and filled with longing and dreams.... Make me want to sink my teeth in... Or snuggle up, variously....

But where are the pictures of my current beau? There are about three. Surely this cannot be right?
Don't I want to capture him? (not really)
Do I feel like I could stare at him all day?(not especially)
Do I want to eat him all up? (no)

Something is very wrong here.

On Addiction

Giving you up is hard. Really hard.
Giving up cigarettes, dope, even coke, was easy by comparison.
I want an IV of you directly into me.

I miss...

soundtrack: Sunna, I miss.

I miss being told things I don't know.
I miss having things I don't understand explained by someone who does.
I miss big words.
I miss submitting to someone who makes me feel held.
I miss feeling accepted.

I miss not feeling guilty about wanting all these things.

I can't fake this

I snuggle up to you, purring like a cat, and ask you to hold tight to my hair.
you stroke your hand over my head ,over and over, stroking and smoothing.... wind your fingers into my tresses and pull tight.... You make me whimper and promise, I have to twist and turn and writhe to keep close to your hand- it's hurts- you lead me by my scalp...

Down on the floor on my hands and knees, you kneel beside me and press the flat of your hand into the small of my back, 'Arch your back', I do as you ask, lifting my ass up, opening myself and revealing her to you fully. At the beginning the force of the smack against my cheeks is a surprise. Again and again you bring your hand against me, hard, the sound reverberates through me before the pain registers. I can't ignore it, it hurts to much to get used to. Eventually the tears come but I don't ask you to stop. My glasses fill with salt water, I can hardly see out. When your fingers slap against her I begin to shake and cry.

Standing over me you feed your stiffening cock between my lips, over my tongue and force it down into my throat. You gaze down at my upturned face as I choke on you, thrusting into me, holding my head you smile down at me and force it further in.

Am I tear stained? mascara streaked? Does it turn you on to hurt me?

It should shame me to kneel like this. But it is pure joy to submit to you.

senses

I have a theory about my senses. Stretching them. Flexing them. Using them to discern tiny sensations.
Like an exercises at bedtime I practise.
I hold this cup in my palm, it's warm curve nestles against me, even slight movements against it sound the high rustling tinkle of skin against glaze. I run my toes over the blanket, exploring the curves and folds, enjoying the slight prickle of wool, the friction arresting the slide of the soft pads of my feet, impeding their journey across the mattress. The cover of my book is cool and hard under my fingertips. Running my fingers over the surface I realise that that whilst it is so smooth it is also matte, and like microscopic velvet it gives me shivers.

I concentrate on gathering sensations and think of you. I know that when I have my moment with you, that is to say, when we next steal a moment together, though our time will be short (it could never be long enough) I will be practised in appreciating sensations. Each tiny brush of skin on skin, each breath that stirs the tiny hairs on my body, every inhalation will fill my consciousness, every touch will resonate my soul...

morning

Last night I didn't sleep til three something.
I woke at seven something.
My asthma's been really bad.
I'm just so tired I can't think. Can hardly function.
Now I've got builders in the basement and kitchen installing a staircase.
It's not quiet. or tidy come to that.

I'm trying to remember when I said that I had never been faithful.
All the time I suppose. Probably in a nonchalant way too.

I don't think it's true to say that I am actually incapable of monogamy.
I just have slip-ups with the same regularity as most people trip on a loose paving stone and make a fool of themselves pretending that they didn't.
Currently it seems to be limited to quarterly occurrences, inversely linked to my happiness.
I've known better than to let them inside me for some time, so it's normally a very unsatisfying fumble. A hungover morning (regardless in fact of the involvement, if any, of alcohol) and a couple weeks of self hatred, usually cut with self harm and/or starvation.

But there again, I've never tried to have a relationship with anyone who knew this stuff about me. I've never been able to talk to any of them about what goes on or ask them for help when I need it.
Would that make a difference?
Who knows.
It looks like we'll never find out.

ouch

Ok so we can't be together.
Why?
five children and a pleasant woman.
200 miles.
few years.
a whole world.
ok. so we can't be together.

"sooner or later I'll have to do something 'bout the starvation"

Ok. I get it. I don't like it though
How could I be expected to like the thought of you giving it to someone else?
Do you enjoy thinking of me underneath another man?
Well then.

"I can't do it with you so......"

This may be a fact, but it does not make the first statement any easier to bear.

"If we were together , I would have expected you to be monogamous... probably unlikely eh?"

WTF? Are we try to damage the girl this morning?
Would it just be simpler to say; "You are a slut, I don't trust you"?
It would've been quicker to write for sure.
If that's what it's about and you're trying to hurt me and drive me away your choice of words could have been limited.
We could have condensed the whole painful incident into one easy text.
"I'm horny and you can't fix it. On to the next one then...."