The world’s worn you down
so I want to be sharp as anything
You ride the tip of every miracle I pray for
I’ve told a million of these stories
sometimes it feels like obsession
but I think I’m just deathly afraid
Leave me stranded like a car wreck, smash
all the picture frames I’ve balanced on your head
you’ve never been strong enough anyway as
this city’s clocktower weighs like whispers on my shoulders
I would place weight on your palms like lightning
and walk out of my skin, show you my thunder
but I know if I did there would be no more unspoken poems in the spot next to you,
you’ve never been strong enough anyway
I can be sharp as anything
if you want me to be,
take a turn holding this world
and it might show you a sliver of skyline.
Note to self: Be careful about giving your heart to people who like to play casually. When things end they will continue playing casually with everyone but you.
Multi-partnered sex is something I have done pretty regularly since joining the kink community.
I propose that to be considered a "primary sexual partner" both partners must agree the commitment shared is loving, predominantly sexually and both are able to define and distinguish a specific uniqueness for the relationship.
For someone such as I, who enjoys control as much as sharing, as well as for the slut who enjoys multiple partnered experiences, it was common for us to participate in group sexual activities (generally gang bangs) and to participate in play scenes with different partners.
The slut in the partnership will generally be the one experiencing more sexual play, simply because she is not only more desirable, but her sluttiness ensures a never ending parade of partners. Personally, the joy I get in controlling a partner in the sexual arena or in a gang bang, more than makes up for the obvious lack of direct sexual activity of my own.
I used to pride myself as a slut-maker, but sadly, I think I have been more of a slut enabler.
Why do I fetishize control? Because when I have control I feel like the happiest man on the planet. Everyone around us smiles, things get done and birds chirp. Yes, the illusion of bliss is magical.
When I don't have control (especially in a slutty situation) it is the opposite. The joy I used to feel is difficult to maintain. If I don't make a concerted effort to train and divert my thoughts, the situation becomes a host of other negative emotions including failure, embarrassment and insecurity.
I propose the thing to remember about choosing the life of a slut, while also being in a relationship, is to make sure you and your partner(s) are on the same page regarding what activities and attitudes constitute sex and what activities and attitudes constitute love. Then decide together if it is sex or if it is love that you are going to be open with in your relationship. Yes, it quite possibly could be both. If you are doing D/s, I additionally propose determining what activities and attitudes constitute the power exchange of control too.
In the context of a relationship, I believe it is important for all partners to be comfortable with whoever the other partners are fucking and loving. Though, as addressed in my Love is a Car Crash blog, sometimes you can't help who you fall in love with. This is accomplished through communication and almost always through compromise.
Relationships change, evolve and devolve over time. Due to us having no agreement on a clear definition of what constituted a relationship, I chose to make the excruciating decision to end my most recent poly partnerships, despite my love for them continuing.
My personal emotional struggles and deep depression has escalating greatly since I made that decision that came down the night before Thanksgiving.
What makes things feel most like a knife tearing through my heart, is that both former partners of mine appear to have moved on gracefully and found new relationships. Sadly (for me), it appears they could more easily define to their new partners the definition of "relationship" and "commitment" than they could with me.
Perhaps the new relationship energy (NRE) they are sharing with their new partners has made it so the relationship question is moot right now. But hopefully, they have been able to come to an understanding with their new partners.
What I must accept, is that ultimately they didn't want to be in a relationship with DaddyO. Or at least didn't want DaddyO's version of a relationship.
This is why in future relationship endeavors, I will strive to find a partner who I can communicate with my relationship standards. I want both of us to not only be willing, but eager to compromise for the other.
It is gut wrenching when you have loving motives , and attempt to deepen your love for a person by negotiation and trying to come to a consensus regarding the definition of "relationship", only to find the triggers mounting up. Those triggers actually make you became less and less desirable to them with each attempt.
I still love them both, yet due to the severance of that damn invisible thing that I was unable to define, I am now unable to show that love in ways I previously did. With each passing day, as they fade into my memory, I fear I must demonstrate my love through eternal compersion.
"Slut" is a powerful word. But being a "slut" makes you an even more powerful person. You single-handedly have the power to bring intensely enjoyable and sometimes life-changing pleasure to countless people. With that immense power, it is vitally important to be responsible and calculated with not only who you are a slut with, but also why you carry out your sluttiness in the first place.
Hopefully this will help you understand why a Daddy who craves "power" and "control" wants to have a slut for a babygirl!
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Recently a woman I was interested in getting to know told me she was holding on to a "love" that she knew wasn't right for her. She had simply fallen in love with this person, and had no choice in the matter. Her love for him hit her out of the blue, like a car accident.
At the time of this writing, the beginning of 2013, I am not in any serious relationships. There are several lovers from my past that I still love, but sadly there is no one I am in a relationship with who I can say "I love you" to. It takes two to make a relationship, and when the one(s) you love are not on the same page as you are as to what defines a loving relationship, you are not able to say you are in a loving relationship with anyone.
That got me thinking. I looked back on the people whom I had declared love for in my life and wondered if it was something that simply "just happened" or if I had made the choice to love them. In every instance my declaration of love towards them was smooth, easy going and painless. But it was due to me choosing them. They all either showed traits I desired or sexual chemistry with me and it was a no-brainer decision to start loving them.
Of the women I have loved, a high percentage remain cordial friends. A few have such hurtful vendettas against me for misunderstandings that they have brutally severed the ties of what once were loving bonds. In those instances it is quite easy to no longer admit any affinity towards them.
But what of the shattered romances in which both person's love continues yet neither party is either not able to accept, or fails to prosper from the other's love? Curiously, in every instance of this sort of breakdown, I was told I either didn't love her "correctly" or the way I loved just wasn't a "fit."
I have been suffering from depression lately due to the intense loss felt by my decision to sever ties with quite possibly two of the most wonderful and prominent women in the local scene. Women who I still respect, love and admire dearly. My decision to break up was not based on any wrongdoing on their parts. Both ladies simply have a different attitude about commitment than I do.
I had discovered about myself that I desired something different than what they were able to give me. I want to be someone's priority. This is not a desire of theirs. Or if it is, they didn't want me as the one reciprocating the prioritization. As a Daddy Dom, I desired to be number one.
To their credit, their boundaries and limits were clearly stated towards me from the beginning, and it was only my wishful thinking that led me to believe that that may have changed over time. It didn't. My status as a priority (which was short lived and never official) quickly vanished.
In the case of the one I was living with, she had started out as my secondary (a position she liked) and due to my divorce, was thrust into the primary role without her consent.
In the case of the other, I think she had started seeing me for a specific purpose and when I noticed she wanted other things, I inserted my desire to be those things to her when her desire was to find those things in other people who were more of a fit in that area for her.
So in writing this, my goal was to convey the theory that "love is like a car crash." That it can and often does hit us without us knowing -and- we can choose to examine potential lovers qualities and chemistries and decide to run our vehicles headlong into their brick walls with intent.
What I am finding is that love is indeed like a car accident and breaking up is more like taking your car in for repairs.
From now on I am going to crash my car more intentionally. But when you are not able to define love, even for yourself, how is one to know your definition of love is the same as the one your potential partner has? And to make matters worse, even if you find someone who shares with you the exact same definition of love as you do, who is to say that they will want to share that "love" with you? Perhaps sharing a common definition of what love is, is not crucial to being in love?
What does everyone think?
(E=mc² for those who have brains with a capacity greater than mine)
The concept of love, since it is undefinable and different for every person, I propose, may or may not have a finite capacity. But time (at least from our perception) does. And because of that, love is all relative--and I am not talking incest!
In theory (like so many theories), expanding love to several people without it lessening, seems to make sense, but in practice it can be another story completely.
It seems to me to be the most difficult pitfall to polyamorous relations.
I will admit, when I get jealous or feel possessive, it is generally not because my lover(s) is/are doing things with other people in so much as that my lover(s) is/are taking the time to do things with other people at a time they could be doing things with me!
So divvying up time between lovers can be a make or break ordeal.
Cool metal on my fingers
but through my eyes this door handle is the swords of an army
and as I enter my blood goes from icy winter to a perfect clean cold,
my boots thunder or tiptoe on the pristine tile.
This is a hospital.
I have to keep reminding myself
this is a hospital,
and I don’t want to believe this is where you live
but it is where you exist.
I want so badly to go in
to keep walking
God knows you’ve faced this better than I ever will
but I am choking on your absence
and I don’t know if we will ever stop carrying this weight
if we will ever be the same once you’re home.
And no, nothing broke your bones
but that would make it easier to sleep at night
knowing without question you are healing.
And no, no one took a blade to your throat but
you might as well have
I can’t speak,
I want to write you a letter
but I don’t write in prose
and if I try I know all it will say is
this is just a broken link in your chain
zoom out and you’re the silver necklace someone has always wanted to wear
you are blind but we all have to watch as
you try to burn yourself down.
You have always been the perfect elixir when every piece of me is exhausted
you are washing me out
like the walls
like the floor
what do they think, you’ll drag colors down your arm like a blade?
And just because the sunset is perfectly orange on the way home
does not mean my head is less tangled or
my heart has stopped boiling into steam-
I could tuck myself into a corner and not know the difference
because when you’re here you fill up the air all the way to the ceiling,
all I know is that you are only a seventh of the beating hearts in this house
but now that you’re gone I can hear the shadow of its sharp stab to your chest
like the silence could kill me.
People break so easily.
For the first time,
Since I've last saw you,
I can feel again.
Melt my soul and spirit.
I'll be your everything
And I'll be so much more.
As long as we're together,
We'll never falter.
Bring me to life.
Wake me up inside.
It's as if
You've cardioverted me.
My dead heart:
Our love has
In the air tonight.
Never Falter with the wind.
We're each other's shelter
From the storm.
We'll wait it out
Once the storms have passed.
Anywhere, wherever you will go,
I'm never far behind.
'Cause I'll run home
To find you.
But, here am, I now,
Admiring the view.
I hope you think of me.
Neve ever, cut me loose.
But I'm scared of
Mixing up the truth
When the best I've got
Is a falling domino.
A little push caused
A chain reaction.
I never thought that
You'd be my distraction.
'Cause you're my poison, babe.
Things shouldn't have ended
The way they did.
If only you had believed in us.
If only you'd believe in our love.
I cannot bear to walk
Further away from this love.
Our shelter from the rain
Were the leaves on a tree
We sought refuge in.
Come on, babe,
Make a move.
Take a chance on us.
'Cause tonight, I'm
Eternally your's to keep.
“You thought you knew thunder,”
these ghosts laugh in my face.
“We’ll show you how much you thought you knew.
We’ll show you the burning ache in your throat
when you spend too many quiet nights in a lonely house.
We’ll show you all the girls with
lighter baggage than you.
We’ll show you all the people
you didn’t look in the eye
when they would hand you an open book.
We’ll show you how choking can kill
when you swallow the next few days
trying to grasp everything she never told you
with no one to hold on to.
We’ll show you
every time you see a hint of his face.
We’ll show you
long cold nights
where you can have everything you need
and still somehow fall asleep with a hole in your chest.
We’ll show you the crime scene made entirely of you,
every sin you have tasted as it fell from your throat or flowed from your hands,
the backs of everyone you thought you knew
as they sprint to escape your self-destruction.
Every time you thought you couldn’t be angrier,
you could twist a blade
deeper in his chest than your name ever made it
and turn your back without a second thought,
we’ll hand you the knife.
We’ll show you a clap
that shakes your soul
so you think it’s the end.”
“You thought you knew thunder,”
laughing ghosts with lunatic eyes
shriek from beneath my bedside table.
“Well, we’ll show you a hurricane.”