Wednesday, 16 January 2019


Justin sat, perfectly still, just by the window feeling serene and weightless. His breathing, faltering, eventually descending his heart rate to a calm place. Relaxing, testing his mind for the worries of the world as he slowly breathed in through his nose, then out of his mouth. Lungs, the strong lungs that often helped with moments such as this, aided him with the task at hand.

He’d needed answers, the questions arriving thick and fast, unable to turn the hands of time towards the left of his life. He would turn them back, possibly, but not for the reasons the people he knew would expect. He’d erase, rectify, remove a few moments to reach the calm at an accelerated pace. He had no time, no real reason, to where he’d been for the last few months. The cliff, that mighty cliff, welcomed him and despite falling from the edge, he’d held and managed to climb back to the top. He had a parachute, as we all did, but that wouldn't be enough for someone such as himself.

He preferred the difficult path, the experience being one of grandeur, tears, faltering at moments, wanting rescue at others, with the end always within sight. Even if he had to bleed, he’d do so. The toughest people are the ones that are tested, destroyed, again and again, yet never actually reaching the very edge of the precipice of no return. Scratching, clawing, surviving, knowing that nothing, absolutely nothing, is far too much to destroy a person.

 Feeling the world around him fade, calming his mind, he felt the walls start to move and at once he cast aside the thoughts that wanted to invade his space. The evil of the world, the thoughts meant to wreak havoc, scratching at his defences and soul. It was too late for those thoughts, the moments of idiocy, as he’d forgiven, forgotten, cast aside his demons and knew that there was only one path to follow. The void.

He’d heard about such a place, in writings, stories, moments when alone and more. He knew that he was surrounded by such a place. A room, a room full of furniture and people, was still so empty depending on the emotion. The mood. The people. Emotions flowed through each of us, all of us, into everything and everyone. Manipulating, expressing, controlling and simply changing us.

His mild cleared as he neared the dark room, that place he’d reached a few times and savoured. He felt his heart rate evaporate into the still sounds of nothing. One last beat, one more moment of being grounded, as he felt his mind finally let go of the world. Energised, the clarity of the void’s entrance, within his grasp. He could go anywhere, know the answers to so many questions, but all within reason. The void seldom asked for much, a simple question, a soul to visit, or anything else of worth. It cast aside the selfish incarnations, if they managed to reach such a place, as the mind of a normal person simply wished for answers. To explore. To feel, to escape, to hopefully manage to connect to another soul of worth.

He knew that darkness existed, out there, within the souls and minds of a million others, with the weight quickly being felt and defences raised. Most people didn't even realise the depths of their own darkness, their own quiet voice whispering descent into the ears of each person. The evil of the single, solitary individual, kept behind a prison of blood, tissue, bone and skin. He dare not envision contacting any such person such as that. He, instead, simply wished for something else. Something new. Something that he knew existed for the longest time.

Pressing his energy against the textured wall in front of his mind, gently at first, with increasing force moving the front of his forehead to generate heat. He relaxed a little more, closing his eyes that bit tighter. Letting his mind split into a million tiny fragments. His mind reached the other side, the image indescribable to such a frail being within the universe, as he glanced back to see his body slump forward. He smiled, his energy glowing all around every single essence of his being.
Floating forward he looked around, if he could now call such a thing, ‘looking.’ Others approached him, the colours vibrant beyond his previous imagination.

Finally, after such a life of struggle and suffering, he’d learned so much and used the most powerful muscle ever made. His mind, his spirit, all existing within the one space… his body. He, at last, had ascended to another world. Another existence. Beyond life, death, suffering or the earthly realm. He was finally, after all this time, free.

Thursday, 10 January 2019


Those moments, the very seconds that have escaped, that we’ll never ever see again seem to haunt me. Yeah, I know, we were so close at that one point in time but now, right now, that’s gone and never forgotten. What was it?  Ten years ago? Eleven? It doesn't matter as that was then and, right now, this is only the very ‘now’ that I’d imagined.

I walk through the night, alone, on my own, wondering if we’d ever actually imagine returning to that place again. It messes with my head, this mind, to think that I had you, touched you, pressed our skin together, only to quickly vacate the situation quicker than a forgotten moment. You know the one. You think the thought and then, the next second, it’s gone. You do, we did, try to remember but it’s far, far too late to return to ten years previous.

We talked, for such a long time, around the subject, about the subject, described the scenarios, laughed so much, then we… became foolish. We tempted the devil, embraced his type of grace. We indulged. We touched. Tasted. Caressed. Held. We pushed and pulled each other, until the very sweat ensured we’d done everything we’d always wanted to do, from the very second we first smiled at each other.

I needed. You wanted. We basically did what’s natural within the world. That night, the entire night, stretching for an hour upon another hour. Beautiful long hair, my hand in yours, fingers feeling that skin, making something from nothing and having the smiles upon our faces turn into expressions of pleasure. You were, I’ll admit, so damn good. Hooked. The line. The very sinker that kept me afloat all vanished that night.

I never survived. I lost a part of myself. Yeah, you've heard it all before, you holding the wine glass, looking at me in ‘that’ way, bright lips asking me to come closer, my very core not even being remotely close to saying no. The trap that neither of us wished to run from, so close, foreboding, the darkness closing in to embrace the deepest desires of two people.

Within each of us, the two of us, we knew that a place existed that needed freedom. A selfish place, an often forgotten place, just begging to free itself. That’s what we did. We poured every single want and need into that room, onto each other, without even thinking to stop for a single breath of rest. The train that never stops, the thunderstorm, the very animalistic nature of two people that had waited far, far too long. That was us. That was you, me, the two becoming one.

That was then. This is now. I thought that I’d forgotten about you, the moment drifting away into the echo of the world, but you’re here right now. In front of me. We’re smiling, reminiscing, skirting around the very thing that we both know we’re aware of. Within the first ten seconds I knew, I know, that I still want you. Same for you. It’s so obvious. I could step the conversation forward and admit all of this but that, that place, might just not be where I want to head.

You've changed, it’s in your eyes, which is the same for me. We've grown, realised a few things, the foolish nature of the youngsters within each of us. That’s okay, it’s perfectly fine, as we both know where this is heading even if we’re not ready to speak about it. It’s inevitable. There’s people that orbit each other and, once in that orbit, they gravitate straight towards each other. It’s life, it’s attraction, it’s the raw and bare reason why we’re all here.

Those moments, the very distant seconds that vanished, that could possibly be re-created to haunt me again. Yeah, I realise, that we were so close in those moments but now, right now, we have another chance. What was it? Ten minutes ago? Eleven? It doesn't matter when I met you again as that was then and, right now, this is only the very ‘now’ that I’d imagined.

Thursday, 3 January 2019


The hall, seemingly vast, filled with people all wearing the same black colours, embraced his eyes. All flowing, all moving, dancing to the splendid music. Grandiose, a spectacle that he’d never, in his entire life, witnessed until this very moment. Cautious, also wearing a black suit provided to him at the hotel, along with a card of instructions, he slowly walked through the dancing people. Watching, ensuring that he didn't miss anything.

He knew that she liked to play, to display her more adventurous side, but this, this right here, was truly unexpected. Everyone, every single person, wearing a lace eye mask. All perfectly presented, smart, dressed to truly impress with the various luxurious perfumes embracing his senses. He’d never dreamt that something like this would happen, could happen, to someone such as himself. He didn't often like to dream, as he knew what his dreams involved. He wanted the simple life, a partner, maybe some adventure, a place to call home, maybe the kids, maybe the moments, but that involved a healthy love between two people. He’d left his dreams to fade, many, many years previous, with this being what he had left in front of him.

Knowing, realising, that anything could realistically happen in life, he was happy to either forge his own path or to follow another, for awhile. He wasn't going to be led by anyone but in some ways, of course, he didn't mind what the results were, as long as there was fun to be had. The excitement fuelled him, pushed him, drove him to seek someone of a like minded nature. He needed his mind to be tempted and, right now, this really was temptation.

A masquerade, with the results being kept away from him. They’d talked, for hours, exploring, testing, exchanging, the appropriate way of things being explored in the most intimate way. Sure, of course, they’d kissed, but he wasn't in her life for the long term. He was transitory, a distraction, which he knew. In another world, another place, something could happen but for now, right now, this was all that mattered.

He reminded himself of what the card stated, ‘find the red feather.’ Minutes moved away from his eyes, as the many bodies danced around. Again and again, another face hidden behind the beautiful lace, the red lips, the many eyes, with his mind urgently trying to find that red feather. Another few moments escaped and, just then, he caught sight of a red object. Moving swiftly forward, dodging the many moving people, he gently placed a hand onto the shoulder of a woman dancing with her partner. As she turned, smiling, he could plainly see the small red feather attached to her lace mask. She gracefully nodded, looking into his eyes, only to then hand him a small envelope.

Seconds vanished as he reached the side of the dance floor, opening the small envelope, to find another small clue, ‘2nd floor, brunette & lace.’ His mind wanted to ask a hundred questions, but instead, his heart and emotions simply wouldn't let anything else speak. This was adventure, this was feeling alive, which to him was one of the most important aspects of his life. If he wasn't living, then instead, he wasn't even alive. The day to day of life haunted him, the drama trapped him, with escaping being the only safety within his thoughts.

Looking to the corners of the room, then to the middle, he caught sight of the main stairwell and made his way over. He didn't wish to look like he was rushing, tact and decorum being at the forefront of his mind. He knew, as always, that there were many eyes within this room and one should always, at all times, be polite and respectful. To the side of that, of course, he’d rather simply run to embrace her as fast as possible. That, of course, was the male within him. Always rushing, never thinking, but that wouldn't do. Not right now. He was more than that. Or so he hoped.

With a certain grace, a confidence within his very smile and walk, he ventured up the stairs to reach the second floor. Walking straight ahead, along the finely furnished walls and flooring, he reached the end only to look left, then right. Two women, one to his right, the other to his left, stood a few metres away from him. He smiled. A test.

He looked at each one, in turn, taking in everything about them. Their smile, their stance, the shape of their beauty, the clothing and, most of all, their hair. He did have a thing for hair. He adored everything about a woman, bathed in their majesty, knowing that he’d be nothing, not even a mere man, without such a presence within his life. He turned right, knowing, understanding, that he always preferred longer hair. It was obvious in the way he viewed a woman, the way his eyes softened, especially when tempted.

He could resist, always, to a point. The charmer, the naughty smile, the big blue eyes, all working for him and, most of all, the soft seeking voice. He knew that he had aspects that women liked, but not all of them. Many wouldn't even look at him twice but the ones that did, didn't regret the moments they shared. Feeling a moment of pain, within his heart, he recalled recent events but pushed them to the side. His history was just that. Right now, this second, he was creating a new history and he was enjoying every single second.

He stopped in front of her, looking into her stunning eyes and she, in return, simply placed her lips to his while embracing him against her. He kept his arms by his side, wondering what on earth was happening. The seconds escaped the both of them, his thoughts eventually giving way to what was happening. His arms held her, her chest and hips pressing against his, as he tasted her lips again and again. They were soft, careful, knowing exactly what they were doing. More smooching, tender, than aggressive or wanton. His favourite, exactly what he liked, playful yet with a point in mind.

She stepped away, the moment gone, over with, his body just about to respond in the usual way, despite his thoughts not wanting ‘that’ type of thing to happen in the middle of a random corridor. His breathing, shallow, affected, the heat within his world raised by just enough to start his mind on a perilous journey. He thought himself a man of control, that charm hardly ever fading, despite the words that could sometimes dare to escape from his lips. He held a mind, within this body of his, that contained such sin despite being the most caring man many would ever know. He held the thoughts within a small little cage, with the most obvious key imaginable. Words. Words would always, no matter the lips, the hair, the touch of a woman’s skin, be the most powerful key to his mind. His affection. He didn't care if a woman had the most beautifully sculptured body imaginable. Without the words, as well as the intentions behind them, no amount of play would ever, never, open that place locked within him.

He was, however, still a man. He had physical limits, his body being one part of a two-piece puzzle. Open the door, play with that puzzle, complete the picture, without realising that there existed another level. He had desires. He knew this. As did the woman that had perpetrated the current moments. He ignored the growing situation, the turn-on of current events, instead forcing his mind to grasp hold of the current moment. He was looking for lace, anything lace. He had obviously found the brunette, who was still standing in front of him with a smile that could have melted the coldest heart. Another time, another place, he’d have simply wished to have taken her. Her lace mask, obviously not hiding a card, held nothing but her identity a secret. Her outfit, skin tight, slightly ruffled, held no keys which meant that there was only one place remaining. She obviously wore no bra, as her distinctive assets showed. He smiled a knowingly naughty smile. She knew him so well. So very well.

Gently, looking for any signs for him to stop what he was doing, he gently placed a hand either side of her hips. Slowly, very slowly, while still looking at those beautiful eyes and daring not to connect with her seductive lips, again, he started to move her dress. As it moved upwards, finally stopping at a suitable distance, he quickly placed another kiss onto her lips and lowered himself. His face reached the most mind-blowing lingerie he’d possibly seen and, underneath, sat a small white card just like the one before. he looked up, smiling, as she returned the smile and blew him a kiss. He removed the card, which sat just below her navel.

“Thank you for the card,” he said, returning to stand in front of her while lowering her tight dress. This was, if he were to be honest with himself, all quite a shock. He knew that she liked to play, knew his small secret, but he didn't truly know what the end result would be. Grandiose, shocking to him, but maybe not to many others, with his mind and now body no longer willing to stop. She’d caught him, embraced his mind, with the end result surely to appear.

He opened the card, read the words, knowing that the moment wasn't quite done. Yet. The third floor, the third room, with the word ‘endure,’ being the only word written upon the card. He nodded to the woman in front of him, moving away while keeping her gaze upon his. Another time, or so he hoped. Life had a mystery all of its own. A guiding hand if you allowed it to do so, directing you into trouble or paradise, depending on whomever you happened to meet.

After a few moments, finally giving in to form a quick pace up the stairs, he stood in front of the door. Breathing, noticing his heart rate being that of a person losing control, he closed his eyes to prepare for whatever was behind the door. Another challenge, another moment of madness, with the twist of a door handle being all that sat between him and the very next second. He turned the handle, the door moved, as he opened his eyes to walk forward.

He entered the room, taking in the surroundings as quickly as possible, stepping forward as the door closed behind him. On the bed, to his side, sat the most beautiful red-haired woman he’d possibly ever seen. Once again, hidden by a lace mask, the mystery being a constant in this playful dance. He placed the card onto the side of a cabinet, walked to the front of the four-poster bed, as the two gentlemen, each side, lifted his arms to tie them to the bed posts. He would have felt uncomfortable, maybe even opted to remove himself from such a place, but it was far too late for that. She knew him. Really, really knew him, from the simple conversations of honesty and discovery. He had a very, very special place for the women of flame. He’d wanted to be burnt for the longest time, to experience their fire, which was what this moment was probably for. Temptation, the masquerade of the truth, pretending, deception, the charade of a tender kiss becoming nothing more than a forgotten moment.

He simply didn't know what to think, at this very second, as she placed herself right in front of him, barely an inch away from his face, lips once again tempting him. Kissing, especially the first kiss, was always an experience that he adored. He could kiss the same person for life but, until then, he’d simply enjoy what he could. He, of course, being the ever-present contradiction of a personality. He, the one that believed in a happy ever after, yet willing to indulge himself with the passion and profanity of seduction, as well as the crimes of the heart.

She gently kissed his neck, moving her hair to the side. Her beautifully arranged hair literally filled his mind with such thoughts that should, maybe, never be spoken. As she kissed, as she moved, he tried to resist as much as he could. The two men, finished with their task, left the room. He couldn't help but be tempted by such a person wearing what she currently displayed. The imagination, his imagination, simply watching every single movement of the majestic woman in front of his very body. He did like to view, to see, to enjoy the fruits of experiencing new moments.  Looking at her, with a naughty playful smile growing upon his lips, he asked the simplest question he could think of, “What am I to endure?”  She smiled, kissing his lips a few times, as her hand moved downwards to feel,
“You can have me right now. She’d never know. I'm what you've always wanted, if you’re being honest!”

He could feel her hand, moving, holding him, teasing him, but this was all too easy. Too tame. He did want her, would have her right now if he could, but what would that actually do for him? A moment’s embrace, the quick meeting of two bodies, pleasing, enjoying, wanting, but that wouldn't sedate what he needed. He needed something else, he needed more, than what he’d had. The experiences of life left him feeling cold, alone, vacant, the switches and connections within him left to fester and die. Her hair, her lips, her damn body, right in front of him, might not ever be enough. His thoughts started to fade as her hand moved. His body, responding in the only way it would in such moments, cried out to him to have her. His head relaxed, his forehead resting against her shoulder, her movements enticing him to give in, to let go of his hesitation and inhibition.

His head span, his thoughts no longer his, he listened as she started to say words that would surely break him, “Let me fu… .” He interrupted her, lifting his head, his lips shaking, his body no longer his, as he simply spoke the word,
“Endure!” He knew that the person that controlled this play had selectively picked the woman in front of him. She knew his vices, his needs, his very wants and deep urges. She knew all of the moments that could sustain him for the short term. That sedation of his inner-male craving. He wanted more than that. He wanted absolute desire to rule him. Each day, every single day, that fire beckoning his every action to be all he could be, for himself and, of course, to serve her every need and want within both their worlds.

Removing her hand, she smiled, while looking ever so remorseful, that he didn't go any further. No matter the desire, no matter the moment or situation, every woman deserved to be wanted. He did want her but, right now, this room wasn't for him. The men returned, untied him, as another card was placed into his pocket by the red-haired perfection in front of him. Calming himself, knowing that he was losing his mental ability to think coherent thoughts, he backed towards the doorway wondering if he should stay. He’d probably regret this moment. One day. Or, at least, he hoped that he wouldn't. The door closed behind him, the envelope opened, with the words, once again, simply stating, ‘4th floor. Be a good boy!’

He read the last four words a few times. ‘Be a good boy!’ That, to him, said in the manner that he knew she’d say the words, echoed through his mind. This play, that he was within, all seemed so elaborate, a test of many moments, despite knowing that he’d never be with her. For once, in his life, he’d found a woman that knew exactly what buttons to push. She didn't need to include the two other women, the location, or this event, but he appreciated the grandiose spectacle. He’d reached a place that he didn't even know existed. His mental mindset, or current suffering, had embraced his thoughts more than any other moment within his life. He wanted her. Truly, more than deeply, madly needed her.

He walked to the fourth floor and, at the end of the corridor, sat the only door. His legs, his strong legs, barely able to carry him, as his will and strength reached an arousal of unimaginable intensity. His entire body, knowing, wanting her, knew exactly what it needed. He, himself, just wanted to see her, kiss her, to witness her hair move and to place his hand against hers. He knew that thoughts such as these were tame compared to all of the other things that he truly, deep within, wanted to express. Awakened, that deep place within any man, animalistic, the very thought of finally becoming the creature that he knew existed. It wasn't enough to be brought to such a place within his body, as he knew that this was all acceptable and normal, but the words and way she’d manipulated him were exemplary. He’d give her a gold star, but he had far more important things to give her.

He pushed those thoughts to the side. He didn't like thinking that way, the way men often thought. She was a living, breathing, thoughtful, intelligent and beautiful woman. He was more than this, despite feeling the very real sensations flowing through his body. She’d teased him, directly or indirectly, she was the one in complete control. She knew that he’d endure, that he’d reach this doorway. If you’re going to play a game then surely, obviously, you always wanted to reach the conclusion. Obvious or evident enough, that’s exactly what was about to happen.

He turned the door handle, pushed, walked inside and, once again, embraced the view of the room in front of him. The roaring fire, the classic scenario, the lighting set low, with the woman in question pouring a drink over to the corner. His heart adjusted to seeing her, moving that bit faster for the briefest of seconds, as his self-control embraced his entire body. The male urge, that motion within, calling him, begged him to simply let go and to have. The devil, as he knew, was a gentleman such as himself, but right now, he didn't plan on being an angel.

He started to walk towards her, keeping his calm firmly in check. She turned, head slightly down, her seductive eyes looking up towards him. She sipped from the wine glass, placing it onto the table to the side of her, her red lips calling him. Feeding his imagination. He wanted to find the words, to describe how she looked, with his mind instead basically faltering at each step. He, this man, the man of words, lost for them, forgotten, reduced to a place that he didn't even know existed. He would speak, he would and should have said a thousand different words but, once again, failed. He stood in front of her, her dark hair and devilish eyes tempting him. She knew exactly what was happening, to him, with him, her seductively intelligent gaze damn well revelling in the physical weaknesses currently being embraced.

She would laugh, if she found all of this funny, but to her it was more than this elaborate play. She needed to please, to understand, to hold, to feel and be wanted. It was more than that. Far more. She might feel sorry for him, standing there, with his blue eyes, crisp white shirt, along with everything else, but if she were being truthful, this man in front of her deserved her respect. He was intelligent, wise, knowing and accepting that it wasn't all about two people doing what they usually did. He wanted more from life, he wanted intrigue, that deception of emotions to play with each other, to tease, to hold with as much provocation as possible. He could stop this, all of this, if he chose to do so, but he wouldn't. She knew what he most certainly wanted and, in a few moments, she’d let him have her. That, to her, was simply delicious. Her decision, her desires, her needs, met in every single way despite the mundane life that she lived outside of moments such as this.

He watched as she slowly started to smile. A dark, naughty, almost evil smile appearing. At that moment, at that second, he could no longer hold anything back. He was a damn man, his weaknesses exploited, his desires served to him, her silent words speaking volumes and she didn't even need to say a damn word. He stepped forward and kissed her in such a way that the very walls should have looked the other way. Wanton, the reckless desire spilling from him, his mind no longer able to function or to form anything other than this moment. He lifted her from her very feet and carried her over to the large bed, placing her gently onto the crisp beautiful sheets.

With either hand he removed her stilettos in one fluid motion, throwing them to either side of the room. His body, teased, able, his strong arms removing his tie and shirt within mere seconds, he knew that he, at least, had to show her everything that he had. It would, of course, be foolish not to do so. She was simply spectacular, a moment to behold, but saying that, he wasn't really himself at this moment in time. Lost, engaged, his body and heart all working together for a change, he felt his eyes soften, emotion rising.

She watched, her eyes wide open, as he stood in front of her. Naked, exposed, a man that had taken the time to look after what he owned. He noticed her gaze, her hair ruffled, that look of desire calling him, asking him, to do what a man should do. He stepped forward, taking her from the bed, her legs wrapping around his waist. Her legs held him against her as her hips moved in such a way to invoke a certain reaction.

Her lips found his, taking every emotion, every feeling that seemed to be bellowing from his very frame. He hadn't felt like this before. He desired her, wanted her to a level that he didn't know existed. Each kiss drove him deeper into whatever he was becoming. Her lips, so damn soft, pressing against his, her nails digging into his firm backside, enabling a small amount of rage within. A healthy rage, a strong rage, the kind of emotion that this moment required. You couldn't become lost within each other without every single emotion being caressed and tendered.

He turned and sat against the bed, as he felt her hips do whatever they simply wanted to do. With one fluid motion, as she raised her arms, he removed her dress. His eyes and body greeted the sight with a rise in heart rate. No lingerie. The mark of a woman that knew what and where she was heading. Assured, confident, willing to give no thoughts to decorum or grace. All of that be damned as this wasn't a moment of finesse or frailty. This, right here, was a woman commanding a man’s body, as well as mind, to a point where he was firmly, completely, without any doubt, all for her. No other woman, on this earth would have done what she had done. No woman in his life, would find his very weaknesses, to exploit them in the most beautiful way imaginable. It was all her. Everything was her.

He, once again, span her around onto her back and pressed his body to hers. Every part of his skin, upon her, screamed with delight as his emotion cried in ways of happiness. Every single movement, of her body, brought him closer to her. She held his arm as he kissed her stomach, his tongue finally being put to use as he moved her onto her front. She arched her back, placing herself into a position that fired his desire to have her in that very second. Instead, wishing for more from the moment, he held her arms and lifted her, placing her against him. Wrapping his arms around her, with one hand upon her breast, he kissed her neck as she gently moved herself up and down. Just enough, not too much, to keep his desire firmly in check.

Then, no longer able to withstand the moment, the hours, the very days of words thrown towards his mind, he reached down and placed himself within her. Gently, barely moving, his arms once again holding her against him. Her skin, so soft, flowed over his fingertips as he moved them along her stomach. He watched as her mouth murmured a few words, his hands softly doing what he wanted to do, pleasing her, teasing her, knowing that despite what he wanted, he needed for this to be more.

She pulled away from him, falling onto the bed, turning, pulling him onto her as she, once again, wrapped her legs around him. He paused, for the briefest moment, knowing, realising, that although she did this for him, it was also for her. Seeing him this way, the power, this second, truly was a moment that probably could never be recreated. Once again, he watched as her eyes closed as he continued. Moving, feeling, using his lips in such a way to tease her, to make her know that this wasn't going to be as easy as she thought. He knew that he had but moments, her body willing him to give her everything, to let go of his feelings and to finally be hers, but he couldn't and wouldn't let that happen. Just yet.

They moved each other to a new place, with her resting on his lap, holding his head to her shoulder, holding him as close as she possibly could. She just wanted to feel, to enjoy, to indulge in this very moment. She could feel him, all of him, against her skin, against her lips, his fingertips slowly moving along either side of her back. He felt so damn good, looked good, smelt good and she simply wanted everything. Her body knew what it wanted, even needed, despite all of the elaborate ruse, this play she’d created. She wanted something more than two people in a room. She wanted to feel, really feel, for just this moment.

He could hardly even speak, his words being torn apart by her movements. Her skin, so very, very soft, teased his very touch, asking him for more. Looking at her, looking into her, he could see so much through those eyes. If he could take this moment and have the seconds, forever, he would. But that, that very thing, wasn't meant to be. He pushed the thoughts aside, destroyed them, realising that the only moment possible was right now.

“What do you want?” she asked, whispering, not really understanding why she wanted to ask such a thing. His thoughts escaped him as the words settled, still not quite able to even think, let alone speak.
“I want you,” he replied, “just you!”
“…because you know me!”

With each word spoken she moved that little bit faster. Edging the both of them closer,
“Why?” she asked again. Somewhere, within, for all of her decadence, the imagination that rested within her, she still troubled herself when believing that someone, anyone, this person in front of her, would want to be attached.
“because of this… ,” he replied as his soft eyes expressed what the words could never say. He placed his hand against the side of her face, kissing her like it was the very last day of his life, placing as much emotion he had into the kiss. Feeling every single second of her upon him. He didn't wish to give this much, he didn't want to possibly fall for anyone, but if this was the way it was supposed to be, then to hell with everything.

As the kiss lingered, still feeling her move the way she did, he could feel her start to let go, to succumb.

To be continued?

Monday, 31 December 2018


Tenderly, carefully, she placed her hand against the side of his face. She could feel the anger, the boiling rage within him, bellowing forward into the world in front of the both of them. He was rage, he was powerful, bestowed with the strength beyond her understanding. Her calming touch, slowly, drew his eyes to hers. She could feel his heartbeat, as her other hand held his chest. He was hers and she was his. Bonded. Fated. The cause of their effect together.

His eyes, full of hatred, the raw emotion embracing his every thought and action. He knew that he couldn't hold such feeling when she looked at him that way. The caring way. The loving way. She broke through all of his defences, all of his actions becoming nothing next to her smile. He fell to his knee, his face in front of hers, deeply embracing her smile within his heart and mind. She’d found him, sprawling, roaming, lost within the world and life. When no other would even contemplate being beside him, being as close as she’d become, she held his hand, embraced his lips upon her, she’d taken his body and made it hers, while whispering thoughts that truly changed his life.

She couldn't, however, erase the years of rage and destruction within his very blood. Discarded, forgotten, left to rot and fester, he’d nearly lost himself within the war of his feelings. He would be nothing without her, maybe she would be nothing without him, but he doubted that to his very core. She was so beautiful, with every word from her lips sounding like the sweetest song imaginable. The words, the moments, soothed him, bathed him with the luxury of someone caring for his very life. He knew that he was blessed, held, truly embraced by the beauty in front of him, despite being the beast of a man that he was.

She knew that she’d never erase the rage, the unfathomable destruction laid virulent within him, as it needed to be used. She smiled, touching the various scars upon his face, with her soft fingertips. He had been broken, crafted, re-defined as a destructive force, yet hidden from the world and then rejected. He knew how to destroy, to fight, yet she’d taught him how to love, to touch, to obey her bodies every command when making the love they both needed. She was, to him, so pure yet her light, her inner light, needed the strength of his frame beside her. Around her, within her, embracing her every desire. She loved him for that, adored him, realising that the balance between them worked beyond compare.

He saw her, bathed in her, as his fingers found hers while holding her hand. His arm moved around her as he lifted her from the ground. He turned, walked towards the building behind the both of them, partly destroyed, their home once again found by the aggressors of their simple life. The jealously, the apparent rage, from nowhere by people that should simply leave them alone. They led a simple life, of privacy, of grace, despite his lumbering strength. Jealously. The inability to accept that two people could simply exist together, to be happy, disturbed so many people. Those people, their own unhappiness defining them, tainting them, tempting them to cause such destruction yet blaming the accused for everything.

She knew that he had to do what he was about to do. It was inevitable. No amount of understanding, the many words that could be used, would pacify another’s heart that simply wanted destruction. They could be left alone. They caused no disruption. They caused no ill will. So be it. He placed her onto the stone wall, holding her lips to his. She felt like heaven. She was, to him, such a place made real within the world. His heaven. His reality the thing of beauty.

She felt his soft kiss, his apparent power falling to the softest touch she’d ever felt. He made her feel safe, wanted, needed, desired beyond belief and, most of all, empowered her to be everything she knew she could be. She could find this place without him but that, that thought, didn't bear thinking of. She’d never wish to be without him. She’d feel empty, alone, the world becoming but a shadow of itself without him. Her skin would feel cold, her lips vacant, her smile lost, as the cold nights mingled together. She nodded as he, again, intensely looked into her eyes. It was time.

Stepping back, he allowed the rage to flow through him. Become him. Every fibre of his being feeling the strength within his very heart. They’d attacked again. They wouldn't leave either of them alone. It was time to teach them, to make them understand through blood, pain and agony. She had tried all of the other ways to teach, but now it was his path. Turning, his body becoming the monster he didn't wish to be, he started to run towards the small army ahead of him.

She watched as he ran. The rage flowing through the air. She wished for another way, a better way, but the monster within the both of them, at times, simply had to feel the rage.

Saturday, 29 December 2018


That thing with life, despite the smiles, the laughter and the moments of crazy mirth and madness, is that we all have scars. Some admittedly beautiful, upon our skin and upon our very bodies, with tender fingertips running along all of them, lips kissing them, trying to show that we care and that the moment is done, over with, resolved, yet within each of us remains the other type of scar.

We’re alive, living, surviving, grasping onto whatever and whomever we can find to sedate the thoughts within each and every single one of us. The tender balance, the moments where we show that little sliver of pain, all hidden behind the masks of our smile. Smile away, laugh until you can hardly breath, tell every single person that you love them, but deep within there’s that place where we hide so much.

We have scars. Parts of us, each of us, ripped apart and sewn together again with whatever we can fashion from the very moment we exist within. A hand, a body, a few words, an emotion filled kiss or a great big cry for help, we survive as that’s truly what we want to do. Never give up, never fall or, at least, sail the seven emotions of the sea within each of us until we reach the shore of safety.

I believe. I understand. I can ‘feel’ the scars all around me. Within the eyes of the people I care for, within the smiles of the people that I've never met, upon all the doubts and fears of the people holding onto their broken souvenirs. Shattered, recovered, never replaced, yet clinging on to the scraps of whatever we can find. We’re surviving, we’re living, we’re proof that no matter what happens we can carry on. No matter the scar, no matter how deep something cuts, we know that it’ll be okay.

The cuts from another, the words that hurt, the silence that suffocates, all mingled together with our own blades willingly cutting into us with words of dissatisfaction. A frenzy of self-doubt, striving to break us into small little slices of pain. Ignore them. Ignore the words. You've been there, we've been there, we've lost, while living, we've trusted, while falling, we've forgiven, yet obviously never forgotten any single part. We’re the sum of our scars. We’re the understanding of our lives. You let someone touch you, you let another within your reach, you risk the scars of life.

I love all of it. With each scar I'm learning, I'm living, while reaching a place where I have no choice but to heal. Heal yourself, struggle, climb, grasp, break the very nails upon your fingers and drag yourself through that scar. It’ll hurt, you’ll bleed, you’ll suffer like you've never suffered before, but I tell you this, I state the words, that you will become stronger than you've ever been. I understand, I appreciate, that there will always be drawbacks to having a scar, but that’s the beauty of healing. You can reminisce, relive, recall that experience and hopefully, gradually, learn to stand within a better place within your life.

The souvenirs, the spectacle of you, the offerings that you possess, are so very, very special. We’re floundering vessels of energy, the impulses of our hearts smashing into each other every single day. You’re bound to be broken, you’re bound to become bruised and battered. It’s inevitable. No matter how strong you are, no matter how tough the skin upon your feelings, eventually, profoundly, you’ll fall under the spell of another. Words are not just words. They’re intentions, they’re magical as well as mayhem. Fall. Touch the ground. Cry as much as you like, but when it’s all over, you’ll rise and proudly proclaim, in silence, that you have another scar.

Behold the moments, embrace the change, smile at the sadness and touch the very scar within your soul with your lips. We’re love, we’re more than what we believe we can be, we’re connected in ways that we're only barely understanding. Hold the hand of the most scar filled person you know and you’ll find an energy, a wealth of knowledge that should be held so very, very close. We’re beautiful, we’re a poetic mystery of words and moments. We’re the sum of scars internally and externally.

No matter what happens next, no matter how I feel or who we become, I'm holding my own scars as close to my heart as possible. They’re understanding, they’re gifts, they’re keeping me alive and, most of all, I am and always will be, my scars.

Thursday, 27 December 2018


A year. An entire year, done, dusted, forever gone and all that remains are memories, successes, failures and the lessons we’re supposed to learn. Did I say successes? (I'm currently smiling).  Being truthful I hardly remember anything about the start of the year, or the middle of the year, as the ending overshadowed everything.

We all know that we have ‘issues’, the big, the small, the ones we deny and the major moments that are pushed to the back of our minds. They’re there, waiting. I'm the type of person that wants answers. Needs answers. I'm not going to simply sit and do nothing, especially when the world around me crumbles into small little bits. I will seek a solution. There are, to me, no problems… only solutions. I'm surrounded by people that need answers, need those solutions, yet continue day to day with band aids while holding on by the skin of their teeth. I want peace. I don’t like the negative aspects of my personality and would prefer, profoundly prefer, to remove them forever. Or, at least, resolve what’s going on behind the scenes. Once you've done that, no matter how difficult, the mind does settle.  Believe me… I know that it can and does.

The year 2018 will always be remembered and I don’t think I can ever forget it. I finally, thankfully, came to terms with the biggest loss in my life. I say that, while knowing nothing, or no-one, can ever pacify the emotions involved when your parent(s) pass away. The biggest, most influential platform that keeps you feeling safe within the world, one day, leaves. Typing this is emotional, as it should be, as I feel for anyone and everyone that has to face, or will face, this/these events. Brace yourself. Hold onto a hand that you love, as you will need them. I now, can finally, close my eyes and hold my Mother's hand and smile. It's a truly beautiful moment when you reach a place such as this.

I now battle my own self-worth. I'm complicated, I'm a bundle of fun, I've a heart that could (literally) love the entire world. I wouldn't hurt a fly, yet I’d fight until I could no longer stand, to protect the people I love. I'm a contradiction and I know it. I've hurt people… oh I truly have but, when all’s said and done, I never ‘meant’ to hurt anyone. Right now, I'm changing, as a person, due to various moments from the last two months. My self confidence is sitting in the corner, wondering what to do. Do I stop caring? Should I specifically only care for myself?  The answer to that is basically, yes, I should only care for myself and my close friends. The amount of love, that I've been shown, over the last two months has been quite difficult to accept. Or understand. I'm supposed to be the selfless one, trying to think of others, while slowly sinking into a place I dearly wished I never found.

I'm becoming my own platform. I do not ‘need’ anyone. At any stage. It’s an odd feeling. But, after saying that, I ‘want’ people to be within my life. No person is an Island. It cannot work. For long. Be strong, stay upright, clench your fists, deny the world, stand tall and be all you can be. This is the aim. This is where I was before and I'm right there again. But that self-worth, as mentioned above, nags at me. It only requires a simple answer and, as the days move forward, I realise that I'm  stupidly strong despite my own heart breaking in multiple ways at the same exact time. I took the brunt of the situation, with my Mother, placed it to the side and did what I always do. Survive. I won’t do that ever again. I will embrace the pain, straight away. I’ll rock, I’ll cry, I’ll go for that drive where you scream with rage and hatred for the world. How dare the universe break my heart and throw it back into my chest. How dare I ignore the hurt. How dare I push away the people that ‘do’ love me. How dare I be offered what I want and then have it vanish. How dare I think that my common sense overshadows the basic pain of life. As intelligent as I am, supposedly, I can be so overwhelmingly dumb at times.

But that was then and this, right now, is the current moment. From ashes, arises the will to re-build. Stronger bones and flesh. A cast iron heart with the smallest door, the tiniest key, for the pre-approved out there. I haven’t lost my heart and I haven’t lost my mind. Instead, like any survivor, I found the appropriate solution for me. It worked.  Nothing in 2019 will catch me by surprise, or so I say. I won’t be handing my heart to anyone soon (or maybe ever), I’ll be working on my body, as well as mental strength, each step of the way. I do not wish to lean on anyone from this point forward. I will be my own self-contained saviour, soul and heart. But friends… I want friends. I want good conversation, I want laughter, I want to be charming, filled with life and more. The sooner I love myself the sooner I’ll ‘allow’ myself to love another.

2018, to me, has actually been life changing. In a good way, in a bad way, in a dreadfully painful way, but that’s what we learn from. Learn from failures, learn from rejection, learn from the loss and, most of all, heal. Become more. Do more. Say less. Say it all. None of it matters unless you’re smiling and that, to me, is my only aim heading into 2019. To smile, to love, to be the person I'm meant to be. I was asked a question last month that stopped me in my tracks, “Do you even know who you are?”

Well… let’s finally find the answer to that question in 2019.

Click to listen

P.s. But after writing all of that... I'm healthy, I have a home, I have friends which means that I have absolutely nothing to complain about. I am so damn lucky to have the life I have. 

Monday, 24 December 2018


Father Christmas wriggled as much as he could, despite being jammed into the smallest chimney he’d ever experienced in all his years. He was, thankfully, grateful for the special fairy dust borrowed from the pixies. He could shrink, then expand, with but a thought. Wriggling again, finally feeling himself fall, he felt his feet hit the bottom. Brushing away the soot, from his face, he crawled from within the fireplace and coughed a few times. This was, as usual, hard work but the clock ticked and he had a deadline.

From his pocket he produced a small tin and, once opened then placed onto the floor, a hundred ants crawled forward to find all of the random bits of soot spread across the room. Santa, of course, couldn't leave any proof or mess wherever he went. The Ants, once finished, hurried at the thought of appearing on Santa’s ‘naughty’ list. Finally, all returning to the tin, Santa started to chuckle, noticing that the last ant had managed to secure a nice amount of mince pie.

Looking around the room, locating the tree, Santa pulled the string that was attached to the full satchel on the roof. With a small amount of noise, a bang here, a smash there, the satchel landed onto his outstretched hands and he set to work. He had his list, his ever-secretive notes sent from parents all across the land, with this very house being at the top of the list.

He looked at his notes, not understanding why this house was special, but he knew that he’d find out why, as well as how, soon enough. Taking a step forward he paused, closing his eyes, knowing that he’d been seen. Opening one eye, slowly looking to his side, he noticed a small girl sitting on the chair. He swiftly turned, placing a finger to across his lips, “Shhhh, you never saw me!” but that motion was short lived as he noticed her tears. Solemn tears, truthful tears, the real tears of a child.

Sitting on the floor, crossing his legs, Santa smiled the gentlest smile he could find, “What’s wrong my Child?” he asked with warmth within every word. The tears kept on flowing, moving from her sad eyes, as she found the bravest part of herself to reply,
“I'm sad as there’s people out there without a Mummy, or Daddy!”
Santa, realising that this was why this house sat at the top of the list, replied, 
“My child, life is a beautiful thing, with moments of great sadness, overcome by the people that love us and care for us. Even a person with no Mommy, or Daddy, can do ‘one’ thing to make everything special again!”

The child, rubbing her eyes, titled her head ever so slightly, wondering what Santa would say next.
“You see, each of us, all of us, are given the gift of an imagination. Each time you close your eyes, you can dream of snow, reindeer, presents, your Mummy and Daddy holding your hand and more. As long as each person has a heart, which they do, they’ll never be alone. Ever. Now… isn't it time you took yourself back to bed?”

The child nodded, sleep filled eyes struggling to stay open, as she hopped off the chair. Hugging Santa, pointing towards the mince pies and milk, over in the corner, she walked up the stairs and away from Santa. He smiled. He truly, from within his heart, smiled at the innocence that existed within the world. A young heart, a pure heart, that cared for everyone and everything, was truly something to love within the world.

Santa shook his head, realising that time waited for no person, man or woman, within the world he inhabited. Rushing, finding the various presents and items within the satchel, he placed them under the tree and pressed the magic buzzer. As he shrank, the string whisking him up the chimney, he ticked the list and placed a star next to the house and occupant name. Maybe, just maybe, this small person, would one day get to visit the greatest place within the world… Love from all.

Happy Christmas xx