Otherwise the night is too dark. She is my slave goddess. It is something of a paradox. For some it is difficult to reconcile. Her body is mine, to instruct, to enjoy, to discipline, to pleasure, to torture, to tease, to arouse, to undress, to direct. To use as I please. Sexually she us completely under my control. I have no idea of the reasons or circumstance behind the statue in the photograph. A goddess and a slave.

I was in love with you for six years. All these poems are for you and for our love. We saw a future together, you and me. But here I am on my own and you are there. I do not even try and continuing this blog is something I thought I should not be doing. It does not feel right. I will not write here again.

Poetry When I Feel Like It. And no sense of time. To music and each other,. To the side of my face,.

September 24, 2012 15 Comments. I often wonder what my life be like. I do deserve this sad, pointless state. Now I bare the sins I made. So distant my selfish dreams at stake. Finding luck is too far away. June 28, 2012 5 Comments. Ruin, I evade to seek. Cannot bare my sores excrete. I labor this goal of mine. My dreams so far behind.

8220;She kept coming back. With the shiny side out. Despite the sticks of bamboo. Crossing the bottom of the planter. But I had a feeling she had managed. To build something after all. So when my friends came to dinner the other night. I had one of them look. There it was, snug against the edge. It was so perfectly round.

Musings on the human experiment. The non-human outward is truly magnificent.