DIEU

via http://chuckbass.tumblr.com/

when you grow up

You've been a broken child, you've been a housewife, you've been a student, you've been an artist, you've been a biker bitch, you've been a writer, you've been a tattooed, beer drinking, vagabond.
You change with the wind, as they blow through your life.
You're happy, then your sad, you cocoon, you molt and then you fly far, far away.

You need time to yourself!
You need to figure out who you are!
You need to be you!

But I have been me all along.
You see, the only ever thing I've ever wanted to be,
was someone else.

Nightmare Fuel. Writing. October 5.

Sara won't you play with me
Darkness falls, you hear my plea
Wander close into the street
Blades so sharp, I'll slice your feet

I want your little toes to keep
Hush my child, don't make a peep
Drag you screaming to my shed
Lay you down upon my bed

Sara came to play with me
Moonlit sparkle I do see

Your eyes will twinkle as my own
Gouging deep while scraping bone
Your cries are ringing in the air
My fingernails, you are aware

Tearing flesh from off your arms
Fright will surely bring more harm
My giggles shrill into a song
The cuts I'm making very long

Sara pleads, don't play with me
But bloodshed's sure to set me free

The axe is swung so very high
Landing hard below your thigh
Smooth white legs I chop to bits
Hurry now before you quit

One more cut into your belly
Hand slide in to gooey jelly
Your insides do feel warm tonight
Beating heart will bring delight

Fingers closed around it firm
Ripping now, you cease to squirm
Hold it close, I feel you near
My love for you, so very dear

Sara you will always be
Floating on the reddened sea

Soul adrift a wondrous flight
The pain I wrought with all my might
My gift to you this deadly night
Darkened streets do always bite

Nightmare Fuel. Writing. October 4.

Fish was selling at it's highest market rate since Joseph had moved his family to the bustling coastal town. Floods had ruined his last crop of wheat and before savings diminished completely, they had set out toward fate unknown. A larger community promised a stronger need for trade. For advancement. For growth.
The move had also been good for his wife's failing health. The cool sea air brought color back into her cheeks. She looked more radiant now than she had when they were first introduced; a harsh contrast to the many sullen looking women in town, faces filled with scars, begging for scraps of bread in exchange for favors unfathomable to a gentleman.

He walked the docks, seeking conversation, advice, any sort of discourse. Strange looks and whispers followed every footstep. New comers were not welcomed, questions even less. Every morning the seafarers headed out and he took note as they returned before the setting sun. In the countryside, it was habit for the fishermen to cast during the late hours, when feeding was more likely to occur. Routine here was much different he saw.
Back in town and drunk, the men became far more open to his presence. They shared stories of large hauls, blinding weather and, of course, legends. "BEWARE" they shouted with rolling bouts of laughter. He smiled with them, hiding rattled nerves. They said to see Old Tom in the morning. He would lend him a small boat for a portion of his catch, to get him started.

Tom was indeed old, or as weathered as years of sea work might make a man. They talked long and easy; agreed on a fair trade. Tom spoke, "Damn them, those liars, don't listen to a word they say." He scratched a rough face with the sharp end of a bloodied knife. "The deep has always had it's stories. Just a bunch of drunks with nothing better to do than talk. You fish as you like. You fish as you know."

And he had. The calm voice of age had settled Joseph's stomach then. Reassuring words now echoed hollow as he felt the pangs of a missing arm and fractured legs. Something large had overtaken his boat this first day out. Moments from his last breath, consumed in a painfully blurry instant, nothing but the present spoke. He felt his grip on the spongy flesh of this beasts tongue weakening with every wash of water that flowed past giant teeth embedded with rotted flesh unknown. As the putrid air pockets began to disappear and the pressure in his head increased, he welcomed the taste of salt in his lungs; a far easier nightmare than flesh dissolving slowly off his skin in the belly of this monster. "I am sorry, my love," he thought as the thoughts ceased to be.

The elder sailors chuckled over drained pints of ale. One of the men began sharpening his knife at the table. "You know," he said, "too young a man to have left unattended, such a pretty wife."
"She'll no doubt be waiting up for him to come home," chimed in another.
"Poor thing is probably scared out of her mind with worry," laughed the eldest.
The small group left too late and too drunk, to deliver bad intention masked by the solemn news. Terror in the deep was only rivaled by that back on shore.

Welcome Home

Pulling into the driveway, I glanced up. The dark curtains were drawn. He was here. And earlier than expected.

No sooner had I parked the car, I was bounding up the front steps to the heavy mahogany door. There was a small note taped there. “Quiet,” it read. I had already made too much noise. Shameful, I thought, though the promise of what was to come only increased the now pulsing between my thighs.

I paused to catch my breath, to focus. Anticipation in the form of glistening beads of sweat gathered on my temples. My nipples stimulated instantly by the movement of my satin camisole.

I slid my key into the lock, quietly slipping inside, easing the door shut again and locking us both in for the evening. I felt every rise and fall of my blouse. The house was cold but I already knew the warmth of the whips lashings would soon feel like noonday sunlight upon my skin; burning hotter as my flesh methodically reddened, lulling me into a dreamy state of heavenly submission.

The last golden light from a setting sun, slipped in from slits and edges of the draperies, softly illuminating the otherwise darkly staged room. He must have had the floors polished, the faint smell of wax reaching up to touch my nose.

In front of me, on the old oak table there was a small wooden box dark etchings covered the lid. It was my wooden box, kept away from me until moments such as these. Focusing on it, I smiled widely for a brief moment before scanning over the evening’s chosen attire.

Next to the box, lay a crucifix of tarnished gold; an aged bible whose pages frayed at the end and undoubtedly will waft musty when opened. Next to it, there were blood red rosary beads and a hairpin made of pearl. A dull gray woolen jacket and skirt were draped over a chair to my right. The fabric promised fitted, uncomfortable resignation. On the seat, there were black stockings I knew to be as soft as lambskin, soon to be shredded as the others before, and my corset of blue constraining movement further. His impeccable taste delivered no finer vision of bodily worship.

My heart now steady, I took to slipping off my shoes, placing them softly on the table. A door shut in the back of the house, startling me. The smell incense began to make its way out of the hallway; a soft mist indicating he was aware of my arrival, my presence required in a timely manner. We indeed had a lot of catching up to do.

Careful not to make a sound, I took off my business suit and placed it on the chair with my purse and keys. I eased into the imported silk stockings, my hair pulled back into a bun, carefully securing each clasp of the restrictive corset. I took my time getting dressed; smoothing out the rough fabric of the suit with my hands as the moments ticked slowly by. Every tiny detail attended to, as it would be minutely scrutinized.

One little peak before my affirmation began. Carefully, I lifted the boxes lid. A diamond studded collar twinkled against black velvet lining. My heart picked up it’s pace again. He had taken it with him on the business trip. I raised the lid and released, letting it slam shut.

I wrapped the beads loosely around my right hand and slipped back into my heels.

I grabbed the box and tucked it under my arm. I picked up the book, the cross on top.

“Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women,” I whispered.

With long purposeful steps, I strode to the location of the closed door. My feet heavy, my heels thumping hard on the wooden floors echoing throughout the house, sure to reach his ears. I would suffer at his hands for having broken the rules. I would suffer at his hands for the redemption of my soul. My long awaited confession would be first; for whilst he was away, I committed the most lecherous of sins; the lascivious hallmark of an unrestrained predator, hunting in the night her targeted prey.

Welcome home, my love.

so selfish.

get to it, bitches.

you're doing it wrong.

QR Codes.

They were made for smart phones to scan. It is fucking pointless for anyone to put one online at all. A link will take care of that. In fact, this is a verified idiot sign, one who clearly doesn't understand simple things like, underwear goes on your ass not head, condoms are for dick protection not water balloons, and pie is for eating not fucking.

Karma drivers.

I was taught how to drive in school. I read the handbook, studied it, managed to get my license and have now been driving for about 20 years. Road rage and people who forget to turn on blinkers, those guys that speed or cut you off in traffic, I honestly don't mind them. Most of the time, people just plain make mistakes, I know I do. I don't honk my horn, I think it is an obnoxious way to get someone's attention as when one is honked at me, my heart tends to skip a beat, so fuck that bad karma accumulating shite. What pisses me off more than anything are drivers who think they are doing you a favor by ignoring the rules of the road, so that they can look like good people. You are not good people. You probably go home and yell at your kids and kick your dog when it craps on the floor. Don't involve me in your balancing things back out in the universe game. If you are across from me at a four way stop and have clearly arrived at that place FIRST, fucking go. Don't wave me through. What is that? If I am making a left hand turn and you are oncoming traffic, don't stop like you are a traffic cop deciding who gets to go and who doesn't. I have already timed how long it takes to get to my destination, I do not need you to block traffic in order to aide me in my quest. Naturally, I don't trust any of you, no sooner do I go then I think you are going to ram me in the side. People are fucked up. I don't get it. Everyone just follow the fucking rules.

Tea-baggers.

Get the balls out of your face. Congress is a game of let me rub your moms asshole with my dick but NOT under any means stick it in. Hint: you scratch my back, I scratch yours. You cannot hold firm on some wack ideal you have that works for no one in real life. Sure communism sounds awesome on paper, but the reality is, most people are fucking greedy bastards who love power. One would always speculate about the neighbor doing what they were required for the team, coveting things they don't need across the fence, sleeping in dumpsters to avoid work. See, people are also inherently lazy. Check any tribe of primates. They spend half their life picking at themselves and rubbing on their nutsacks (at least the males), if they are not killing off every male, female and child of some randomly picked other group of primates. We are not that far off, I don't go a day without seeing at least 25 men adjust themselves, 5 girls post their tits online and the world is running around 20+ conflicts currently. Go back to school and take a history class for fucks sake, also check out something called Political Science. You have to know that you can't just elect 13 more senators to Congress once you become President Michelle Bachmann - are you fucking kidding me? The words that spill out of your mouth make Sarah Palin look like a goddamn Nuclear Physicist with a doctorate in English. I honestly consider you might not be able to dress yourself in the morning. This country has lost its mind to a nice ass and pair of tits. Twice now, retards, thats the beginning of a pattern.

Republicans.

Can you involve Christ in more of your public speaking adventures? Please. Hold another prayer rally for something. Do any of you even think about separation of church and state? Do any of you even think? You bring up all these already voted on and passed ideas in order to turn them around, instead of working to fix the current problems at hand. You enter into legislation shit like "Marriage is defined as this". Any of you miss the fact that we are going broke? Don't mean to break up your circlejerk with real problems but we have issues to attend to that have nothing to do with hiring an ex pro-golfing legends company to grant them state park land in order to build a memorial playing trail. The fuck.

Democrats.

GROW A PAIR, YOU PUSSYS. You remind me of a 3 year old daycare class. Drooling, wandering around clueless, no organization or coherent ideas except, let's play with blocks, what, or sticks, yea sticks. Party for the people? You sell out to corporations just as fast as Republicans and then lie like none of us can look the shit up. Fuck you and your intent to get reelected. Work together on something. You think you can at least stand united on one front? And you wonder why the Republicans stomp your dicks into the dirt, if anything they at least back each other up no matter what. You disperse like cockroaches anytime someone shines a light on you.

Dogs.

Its balls to ass. BALLS to ASS. I would rather you smell musty than like shit.

Texas and Florida.

What The Fuck.

You are doing it ALL wrong.

Florida: Collapse into the ocean please.

Texas: Secede already.

You collectively couldn't screw in a lightbulb without written instructions, a 40 minute YouTube video, monitoring by several scientists, and before fucking a cow in the ass, hip tossing a baby into traffic and shooting pandas for a new fur industry sponsored by Paris Hilton and OJ Simpson. I weep at night. WEEP.

der.

the fool has a point.