WHEN REALITY BANGS

'And I trusted you' by Bloody Mary99

“Close your eyes. Free your mind. I’m not about to whip out a ring and ask you to marry me. This is not a fairytale I’m going to pretend to create for you. It’s reality.”

Flashing lights dancing on love rainbows….shooting star streaking across the sky…no.  That was not what happened. 

I felt something hard strike my back. Felt my skin swelling in response. I bit my lip to keep from screaming.

“Keep them closed,” he said as my lids flinched to open.

I felt his fingers on my neck, fiddling with the collar of my short dress. A ripping sound and the cold air enveloping my nakedness told me he’d just ripped my dress off. I stood still. Tears running down my face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. 

Soft feather-like kisses caressed my collarbone. His long fingers trailing a smooth path on my curves, teased my hairs to an upstanding position. I shivered. Then he took my small waist in his arms, knelt down between my legs and kissed my womb. So soft. Then hard as though his life depended on it. A hungry moan escaped my lips.

Then he bit me, in that small patch of tender skin, that cleft between thigh and punani. I shivered till the pain got unbearable and I clawed at his head and whimpered. 

“Ssshh…the pain has only began. I would break you till your tears become blood and your blood becomes tears. Till you hate me so much you become numb. Till you would no longer feel hate nor love.”

I didn’t understand. But I wanted him. So bad. And not just sexually. I wanted his body, his spirit, his mind. I wanted him to become Me for an Us to be born. So I stood there. Listening to his strange demands.

Then it began. Mind-blowing joy and pain interspersed together so wickedly I thought I was going to die. 

His lips did unfathomable things to my punani, teased my clit to release its hottest, wettest secrets, all the while his fingers slid in and out my wetness. I grabbed his locks hard, my nails digging deep into his scalp. God, it felt so good. His big hands slid to my buttocks and drew me closer to the relentless damage that was his mouth. I lifted my head up and cried out. He held me tighter, moving his teeth and tongue faster. 

I felt myself about to lose myself, slip over the edge. I whispered his name, felt my spirit about to give in, to let go into that heaven only lovers find.

Then it stopped. The pleasure. He stopped. 

He slapped my eyes shut with his big palms.

“Eyes still closed.”

I felt like crying. I was panting really hard. My chest filled with indescribable feelings. Like being stuck in an out-of-body experience, only your spirit was still halfway in the body while the other was half wrenched out, was hanging out limp and confused.

He swept me off my feet into his arms and lay me on the soft furry rug that covered the length and breadth of the room. He bent over me, rubbed his slightly open lips on mine, light feathery brushes, breathing his sweet breath into my parted lips like God did Adam. I felt new, sucking in his breath. Felt whole. This was what The Very First Kiss of Creation must have felt like. My lips yearned to taste deep, suck his in but he simply continued with the teasing brushes, nibbling my lower lip, brushing his tongue lightly on my upper lip.

Then he delved deep inside my mouth with his tongue and our tongues danced an old dance, a dance choreographed from the beginning of time. He put my arms around his neck and my legs automatically wrapped themselves around his naked lower half. He whispered in between breath pauses, “I love you.” My heart melted. I pulled him closer, warmth spreading across my thighs as I felt his hard membrane on my inner thigh.

He let go of me gently and for the briefest of seconds. I couldn’t help but moan long into the rug when I felt the feather he began to tickle my nipples with. Round and round he went, setting my senses on fire. The warm wetness of his mouth warmed the other nipple while the other was made painfully hard by the feather. I thought I would lose it till he slipped the feather down my belly to the very heart of me. 

“You love it?” 

I nodded, grabbing his arm hard. The tip of the feather teasing my very tip. If my clit could talk, it would scream all manner of obscenities. I couldn’t lie still. My body shook as though I was possessed. I had been possessed. By him.

Then he slid his long, hard member inside me. I groaned so long he kissed me deep to stifle it. My legs pulled him deep, my hands wrapping themselves about his smooth, hard back and holding him tight. Our bodies became one, making outlawed rhythms in unison. One. Oneness. Universal. He had my head in his hands, holding me close, so close. He whispered how beautiful I was, how much he loved me…

“You feel this?” he panted, “we are one.”

Then the fluttering beginnings of an out-of-body experience began again. I welcomed it with so much pleasure. This time, this one time, it was going to be real, powerful.  “I found it, I’ve finally found it…” kept ringing through my over-sensitized mind. I loved him. I loved every bit of him. He completed me. He was me. This fiery feeling of love in body and soul and spirit brought tears to my eyes.

“It’s alright baby,” he whispered when he tasted the salt of my tears. “Just hold me. Love me. I would complete you.”

My legs held tighter as he pumped slowly, his waist dancing rhythms into my innermost core. Then his rhythm quickened and my pulse quickened to match it.

“It’s time,” he said. 

I kissed him hard. Then it came. The Moment. That moment when body exploded to stars…angels reached out for my fingertips. I smiled, preparing to let myself go in the holy arms he had shepherded me to. I sighed.

Then it stopped. He stopped. Pulled out of me so fast it was almost painful. My eyes helplessly snapped open. My body did not, could not understand this wickedly abrupt change. It convulsed and curled up, torn between pleasure and pain. I shook uncontrollably in this pain-pleasure as though I was being exorcised, only in this case, the demon was entering me not leaving me. He watched me quietly, calmly, his face hauntingly expressionless. The pain became so unbearable I let out a huge sob, a cry that came from the very depths of me.

He watched me groveling at his feet. His face, so cold and removed, made me weep harder. The pain was unbearable. I did not understand. He dressed up silently, my eyes watching him painfully.

He moved with even steps toward the door. My heart was in my mouth, too frozen in shock and agony to call out to him, he who had become the very core of my being.

“I never want to see you again,” he whispered, and stepped out into the night.

Death for me was not a phenomenon that ended after that day. Hate’s passion ceased to be as invigorating so could no longer be a comfort. Love? She was murdered the day he killed me. I tore her heart out with my teeth. I’ve been a killer on the prowl since.

Unstructured Thoughts: The Love Moment

Never written a tale of love...where forever and the present intercourse together in eternity.

 I feel it's something I've got to feel for forever before I write about it? But the problem is I feel that only in moments. That love feeling of eternity and powerful endlessness in that warm, very warm mushy feeling that makes your chest feel like a calm blue sea; powerful, capable of anything and wonderful...the best of God's creations. Love. I feel it in moments.

So I'm hesitant to write about it because they say it's forever. But I feel it in moments but it's still awesome! I breathe very deep in its scented whiff. Even more so 'cos I know its going to end, in the next second. I hold tighter, kiss harder, talk deeper, stare harder and imprint the Moment in Forever.

 In Moments.

When it's about to happen, it doesn't warn you. It's not exactly slow nor sudden. It eases into The Love Moment. But you've got to recognize it. You would be too busy blinded by the lust or blinded by the popular explanation of how love happens. Or caught by the intoxicating feeling of the honeymoon phase of meeting a person for the first time. You don't have to look too hard. Just ease onto it, soak in whatever is around you, be grateful for what is happening at the moment. Because it passes.


When it ends, I used to reel from the suddenness; wonder about the speed of change that can happen in a person. It was too hard, too sudden to understand. So I got bitter, lashed out, generalized. But I came to understand. We are Humans. There really wasn't any 'unique' 'special' 'different' 'knight in shining armour' human.Might as well look for air in physical form. I came to understand the Moment power of love, and accept it. I wish fervently for it when its over, of course. Noone wants a good thing to end. But I place more importance on being able to catch The Love Moment than wishing it lasted forever.

And the great thing about the Love Moment is that it can happen with anyone.  And I believe it's ultimately because of God who resides in each and every one of us, God being Love and Love being God. So you can catch that moment with anyone, connect with anyone for that moment on that lofty plane which is heaven. Our very own heaven on earth for the briefest, sweetest of seconds, minutes, hours, days, a week or whenever it decides to end. 

You've just got recognize it when it comes. And accept its end.

The Jesus Fallacy

Jesus I stand opposite You

By You, near You, a hope to be You

Staring into your eyes which for some reason are still blue

Looking up to your haloed head which for some reason is still crowned by silky blonde hair

Jesus I stand opposite You

But my eyes are blind to You

All I see are the distortions of You

Jesus I stand opposite You, staring at your white hands outstretched to me

That’s how they painted them, always outstretched

I stare hard at those white fingers promising me Salvation

Extrication redemption liberation emancipation for all that I am and could be

Jesus I stand opposite You But I’m afraid of it

I’m afraid of You

And all that You promise I could do

For you see, Sweet Jesus, my mind is a maze of impossibilities

I don’t understand myself enough to trust myself

A piss painting, a collection of mud footprints all over my canvas

Sweet Jesus, this I understand

But you see, You I cannot understand

Jesus I stand opposite You

But I don’t understand You

Jesus Sweet Jesus your image scares me

You say You Love me and you’re my light

That warm refuge I can come to when all around me is coloured

With despair, repair my errs when all I dare lays me bare

And destitute, and scarred, a flailing body in a dead field

 I turn to You and You look…cold

No. Fiery hot. Whispering to me in a strange tongue

Your lips hiss threats of hell, an eternity of flames burning my hairs, my skin…

Leaving me to the mercies of an evil beast…as punishment…for my sins

A sentence of eternal damnation as punishment  

For the child You loved so much You bled for, was whipped for

Spat upon for, took nails in Your palms for, flesh torn apart for

Then died for…

Jesus, Sweet Jesus, I stand opposite You

But I don’t understand You

I don’t understand Your Love

Maybe I…maybe I got You all wrong

Maybe They painted You wrong

Maybe I was told the wrong tales growing up

Given the wrong interpretations, mixed with fabrications

To suit the intentions of people so selfish they would warp a child’s mind

Till that child becomes an adult whose thoughts aren’t really her thoughts ‘cos those thoughts are the thoughts of someone else who wants those thoughts to control her

Break her

Confuse her

Then kill her

Jesus Sweet Jesus, I stand opposite You

By You, near You, a hope to be You

But I don’t see You.

SUN-SEARCHING

One morning, Mr. Chagreen left and never came back.

He picked himself up from the corner of my room, skipped out the window into a freedom I had never had. I stare at the window and watch the wind blow my drab curtains. Wonder if freedom felt like the happy swinging of the purple patterned fabric.

I didn’t understand why I was never to leave this room. They said I was mentally unstable, caused by traumatic experiences. They said that I could put others in harm’s way. But then again, they said I was of no harm too anybody but myself. I didn’t understand people. They say one thing all the time and mean another. They don’t make sense to me. But I guess that’s what makes me different. I guess it’s what makes me ‘mentally unstable’.

Mr. Chagreen was my invisible friend. He made me laugh when they made everything seem sad. Once, we went sun-searching. It’s a term he created for chasing the sunset, trying to catch the shimmery orange rays of the sun as it fell away from earth to give way to the moon. We’d rush outside and sit on grass, stretch our palms out to the sky and try and catch as many rays as possible before the sun said goodbye. When he caught a ray, Mr. Chagreen always looked beautiful. The orange glow set his brown face in a shimmery halo, and a thought always flashed at that moment: God sent him to me.

But they say Mr. Chagreen is bad. They say he takes away my real friends and he is only a figment of my imagination. They say he scares people away from me and makes me talk to myself when real people want to talk to me.  So they drove him away from me. For days, I was lonely. I wanted to call him back but I dared not. Because they said it was part of my ‘treatment.’ So I hung alone in parks, played in the grass by myself and went sun-searching alone, because you see, the ‘real’ people still talked to me strange. They still stared at me funny and whispered behind my back.

Mr. Chagreen first came to me that night when the pain began. All I could hear was screaming voices. Mummy and Daddy were angry again. Mummy was crying but she was screaming. Daddy looked like the evil purple monster in my bedtime story. I crawled to the corner of my room and closed my ears and hummed that song mummy taught me to hum. But they were shouting so loud I did not hear myself.  I started to cry. I wished they would stop. Then a thought flashed in my mind: Tell them to stop.

I run out of my room to the hallway, looking up the staircase at them and just when I filled my lungs to scream ‘stop,’ Daddy hit mummy hard. She fell and rolled down the stairs. I looked down at mummy lying next to my left big toe. She was no longer shouting. She was no longer crying. She was staring at a place between my legs and her red juice started to creep under my toes. It was warm. It was sticky. I called her but she didn’t respond. Then daddy swooped me into his arms. Everything went dark after.

But Mr. Chagreen pinched my cheeks and kissed me awake. He told me he would be my best friend. He told me we would play lots of games together. And we would grow up together. He was with me when the men in blue came and took daddy away. He was with me when the fat ‘institootional’ lady came to take me away too. He was with me when the doctor with thick glasses told me I’m ‘unstable’. He was with me when the nightmares came and mummy kept staring at somebody else with her red juice wetting my hands and feet and my favorite purple dress. I screamed her name but she simply looked away. Mr. Chagreen was with me when I woke to find the red juice had become urine all over my sheets and clothes. He cried with me when the fat ‘institootional’ lady gave me a ‘good spanking’ for wetting my bed.

 He was with me when the other children refused to play with me. He made my tongue form words when I was so scared to talk, I stuttered. He made me talk of the green leaves, orange sunlight, rainbows and unicorns when my mouth wanted to scream that mummy’s red juice was on my feet. Mr. Chagreen braided my hair and put flowers in it, though it made the other children shout, “She’s putting dead flowers in her hair again!”And when we went sun-searching and the magic orange rays fell on our faces, that hole in my chest that made it difficult for me to breathe vanished. That urge to scream ‘stop’ melted and mummy’s smile came back, daddy’s laughter caressed my cheeks again. And we were rolling around in my bed again, tickling each other and laughing and telling stories. Like the story of the handsome prince who looked like Daddy and would sweep me off my feet.

But the doctor with the thick glasses and moustache like a toothbrush said Mr. Chagreen was bad and had to go away. So I pushed him away. But he still held on to my hand.

Then one day, he went and never came back. And the nightmares came back, so I began to cut myself to see mummy’s red juice again.

Lovemaking In Purple Rain

Soft lips, soft hands, wet bodies, slow rhythms…

I give me, all of me, to You.

Stroke me like You Love me..Love me like You need me…just for one night…

A wet rose sliding down my cleavage, my hands encircling your waist, sliding lower…

Reach into the depths of my bruised heart…it’s dark down there. It’s dead…but Love me. Just this night.

Warm tongues probing, searching...entangled rhythms of tales as old as time...withered wishes of worn fairytales

Fingers brush the warm wetness of open thighs…

Breathing heavily on sensitive tips…

An incestuous affair of pain and pleasure…tears glistening on the tips of pubic hairs...please…Love me…if only for one night…

Shadows on a bruised wall…arched backs, breathing in the secret of night

Entangle me in the rich darkness that relaxes my soul

Light, a mirage of a rude awakening….drink deep my bittersweet juices

Sinful traps of sorrowful tunes, Love my lonely lips till thorny crowns hover above a bleeding head

Winding waists...clawing fingers…come inside me…take me slowly…yessss

Be with me, of me, by me…till You becomes Me and Me becomes You in the powerful circle of…Good.

Love me. Just this night

Climax hovers on edges of that sweet, sweet atmosphere…

Grab my hair…breathe in my…you feel so good…

Higher and higher…faster and faster…images, a chorused blur of Love tales, Love tunes…Love me…Just this night Love me

Fantasy meets reality on a purple horizon

I’m…Free

THE TREE OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOOD AND EVIL

 Man were cursed from paradise for eating the fruit from the tree God had forbidden them to eat, a tree which God, in the birth of time, planned for them to eat and experience. For first of all, God would not be omniscient, neither omnipresent, if She did not know beforehand that Her first humans would be seduced by the fruit she had expressly forbidden them to eat. Secondly, she would not be omnipotent if she knew and could not do anything about it, like stop it. Thus God, being all omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent, had to know.

Now, the question lies in God’s knowing. What were the consequences of eating from the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil? It meant man would be privy to knowledge that would either curse or bless his and her existence above or below all other creations of God, in heaven or on earth. Blessing or curse, one thing was for sure: Man’s acquisition of this knowledge probably set him and her above all of God’s creations. For it is only in man that God, the Ultimate Scientist and Artist, created his first being that wasn’t of purely and solely ‘moral material’ (angels, and whatever other creations exist in the heavens) nor purely and solely instinctual material (animals, plants, nature in general). Man and woman were first created as part of the group of the latter, but it seems God had loftier plans for Man. What if I were to make man the point of synthesis? What if I were to make man the merger of the separate divides? What if I were to make man the image of God? Mind you, just an image.

Thus the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was created, and the possibilities for fallibility, which Man was by the nature God had created him and her with, put in place. You see, Man had to be forbidden from the Tree, because the process to attaining the knowledge of Good and Evil would not be complete without this quality of forbiddingness. In other words, it was a necessary condition that man and woman were ordered not to eat from the Tree, for his and her defiance of that rule would spark the fires of eternal remorse, the needed fuel to commence and sustain man in his and her struggle for understanding Good and Evil, for understanding this ultimate truth of existence, made man alive and meaningful. Also, man’s choice to want to know what was hidden from him and her was that step God needed. Why was this eternal remorse needed? Because remorse is what drives the human mind to further seek and understand the truth, the knowledge of good and evil. Man’s Fall was a necessary condition. Man needed to fall, fall short of accessing God, to be able to make sense of the truth. It is in the fires of anguish that the sword is forged.

The powerful metaphor of a garden of Paradise accurately captures the state of freedom and innocence man’s mind was enveloped in at the beginning of his and her creation. The battle man henceforth suffered for wanting to know, for wanting to understand beyond the blanket of nature he had been created in, was man’s inevitable burden. Man would not be man without this battle/ blessing/ curse. Man would be a being without purpose for it is this battle to know and understand good and evil that validates his and her existence. The fruit is a heavy symbolism of man’s decision to want to know, thus, the point at which God draws away from the earth, draws away from man who is a sliver, a mere image, of Herself. With God in the picture, that battle to understand the distinction of good and evil, to live the merger between natural instincts and morality, would be unachievable. It is a struggle man must go through alone; his and her success would be the first, making man the greatest of Her creations.

Man is definitely no longer in the paradise of Eden, but we still circle the gleaming fruits on the Tree of the Knowledge of Good And Evil daily, still ruminate about the different flavours of its bittersweet taste on our tongues, still seek to draw the lines between the lines and find that elusive balance. This is our battle, our struggle, our curse, our blessing, made more urgent by our anguished illusions of an eternally burning pit of fire where we shall burn ceaselessly, denied the pleasure of death. This hell is not an illusion. Nor is it a reserve for our unknown future, the punishment for failure to complete this herculean task God has given us. It is our present.