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Deprevation and Desire
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Misc./Exp. Mastery of The Beast Part IV
Puppets without strings so free to dance as they desire.
Strings enwrapping the beast, holding the puppet by the
guide. The dance always writhes about on end for days,
weeks, months. Free is only some perversely metered out
ideaology I grant myself. No strings any longer can hold the
sway of the beast.
Must set myself free you see. The ballet so defined, such
reform of nature's best. Something like a carrot before a
horse the way it works. Trick the mind, spare not the body
and damn the soul but for a desire. Months, hours and
seconds I have no time away from him my lover so intimate.
Nature made it all as it would be. The beast upon strings,
humanity and compassion are their names. Writhing in agony
from a beating inside out the joy numbs the pain. Metered
out are the blows, the kicks and the whip slashing deep into
me. They are but used to hold and caress a desire, to drive
onward the will so to live.
The pain is nothing, it's loved and embraced. It means the
beast cares enough to give his best even it means tempting
our death. Love the pain because it presents a challenge of
will, sparks fly in the hearth and forge. Cold steel
greeting me warm like so many lives past it's done the eyes
sullen and awash lost in pleasure.
He is loosed upon the world. Strings are cut and the puppet
falls away. Free, if only I could be. He rewires the strings
and tugs hard chinching in the knots. Stomach full of them
too, look upon the crimson and Burgundy covered wretch.
Scene before us in embrace now, splattered and distorted
traces of a body covering the walls. Walls all built within
the frame of a mind, the one I let everyone believe isn't
there.
