Is is tides, stars? This wordless urge timed to the night, cyclic surge like circadian clocks? Ages old, pure and irrational— whiskers twitch, eyes widen, skin quivers, shadow caress materialized out of telephone wires and strange desires crystallize over two thousand miles. Volatile, visceral, ancient, amoral, crazy chemicals burning and blind, making me wild. My mind protests. The wires whisper “mine” “no choice” and reasons whither, helpless, limp as I hurl myself from the Santa Cruz cliffs.
The line between delight and pain you're teaching me to tread. Again your leather licks along my spine, your fingers in my hair entwine, your blades their bloody trails incise; the line between delight and pain grows blurry as you kiss my eyes and dive for pearls between my thighs, splayed and shackled. Now your cane paints ruddy stripes across my flesh, the line between delight and pain: ecstatic, luminous, insane. With blood and tears, with spunk and sweat you baptize me. Appalled and wet I teeter on the edge again, the line between delight and pain.