domination promenade peach prom dress frothy and sweet as apple pie, cream, whipped little girls twirling in ballerina tutus (ballet class required) required for daintiness and grace - always learning grace
(which really means polite silence, the running of insults off one's back, movement(more)s that betray no emotion, which really means control)
domination in a prom dress she's grown now or she thinks, though looking back from 30 she'll roll her eyes outwardly and feel shame inwardly, and while she's walking the dog she'll remember this dress this day this dance and in her embarrassment
(even though it's just thoughts in her own head and no audience but her and the Almighty)
she'll giggle out loud a nervous titter and the dog will ignore her because dogs are perfect like that, not caring about how ugly one's perfect dress was or what one did to whom and how
but it's a sure thing that poor boy bled
(which the dog would care about most certainly at least somewhere deep deep deep in his wolf pack bones)
and at the time she was sure he deserved it but she'll wonder while she's walking and looking back she'll wonder just who was on top of whom and where the manipulation occurred and when exactly does grace become cold posturing revenge.(less)
I remember how often “Dominion” is offered up in the Bible. Some King’s dominion over another land and people, God’s dominion over all the heavens and the earth, Satan’s place and power, the influence and authority of Angels. All of them striving to control their share. The ever-present, weak-kneed(more) lust to be in charge of something.
It works it’s way into the psyche of every broomstick-hazing-frat-boy, every security guard that brings his own gun to work, every bus driver that corrects my English when I ask a polite question (“I don’t know, CAN you?”). Domination seems to be a driving force in the absolutely normal lives of us all and for that I am sorry. I am sorry for my part in it. I am sorry for every time I have attempted to extract a little or a lot of control over somebody else’s life,
Unless they asked for it.
And in that case, they thank me. They thank me abundantly and profoundly and I respond to their gratitude with even stricter control. I wordlessly answer their thankfulness with a domination so overwhelmingly physical that they lose touch with the petty thoughts that plague their exhausted minds. I reduce them to zero, not because it has anything to do with their worth but because they need to begin again at a point where worth has no meaning.
My domination is temporary. It serves only as a reminder of the worth we all contain within us. The miracle of our birth and the fact that every moment is a new opportunity to begin again. It’s up to them take what they’ve learned here out into the world.
You can probably see why my clients adore me the way they do. (less)
What a delicious word.
Veritably gushing with malice,
razors and whips.
Hot pink lips wrangled in agony,
Grubby flesh coated in perspiration,
Smells of penetrated orifices,
sizzling from friction.
Meticulous blows from an unwavering hand,
leaving purple welts and trickles of blood.
Teeth fixed in mocking smiles,
they continue to goad the perversion of self.
Souls are lost in a dirty brown corner,
Smears on walls, caveman's art,
Intrinsic nature of mans hidden self,
We are not Homo Sapiens, Wise man,
We are Depraved Poets,
reveling in our Sado-Masochistic