"deeply i go down into myself. my god is dark and like a webbing made of a hundred roots that drink in silence." -rainer maria rilke


"We either make ourselves miserable or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same." -Carlos Castaneda



texts from last month.

me:  "i'm a deer and you're a wolf.  it's perfect."
he:  "uhhuh!  i'ma chase you thru the forest....bite your neck in half...and you'll take it willingly.  mama nature has told you that this violence is meant to be."

i'm in love.



the week following my tryst with the devil was a total crash.  i dropped really hard.  we continued our hot and heavy texting.  sang each others praises.  but i still bottomed out.  big time.  my entire existence was wrecked from our fuck.

he was wrapping up the tour the following weekend...and started expressing to me how badly he wanted to stop through st. louis on his way back to austin.  he mentioned buying a plane ticket.  i mentioned skipping the motorhead show to pick him up from the airport.  i was laying in bed as i told him this.  writhing.  i felt like a wild animal trapped in a cage.

this is only drunken grasping at straws, i thought to myself.  there is no way he is coming back on his way home.

but even still...there was no way to deny it.  we both wanted more.  badly.

i gave up on the notion of him stopping through.  dismissed it completely.  no use torturing myself when the torture i was already experiencing from my drop was bad enough already.  i went to see motorhead play.  i rubbed off in the bathroom and sent him a photo.

i woke up the next morning with a slight sting...he wanted to come back last night.  i got up and started thinking up ways to occupy myself so as not to spend too much time thinking about how he was in my bed one week ago that morning.  how his cum was leaking out into my jeans.  his expression after he filled my pussy is forever burned into my mind. 

one week after he left, and he's telling me his bandmate has pinkeye and they are looking for a place for him to see an eye doctor in st. louis.

i couldn't believe it was happening.

i started pacing around my apartment.  freak out machine.

he calls and asks for my help finding an eye doctor.  i make some calls.  target optical.  35 bux for pinkeye.  we'll meet in about two hours.  he'll call me when he's getting close.

jesus christ i can't believe this is really happening.

i go to facebook and tell my pal Z that he's coming back.  and i am freaking out.  and i need lunch.  and a cocktail.  pronto.

several minutes later she is at my place and we are on our way to a mexican restaurant.  i ordered a margarita immediately.  i could barely eat.  yes i'll have another margarita. 

as we're leaving the restaurant, Z is walking behind me.  she yells, "dude!  you have a giant wet spot on the back of your skirt."  we both cracked up at that.  i had figured as much, having gone into the bathroom to inspect my spinnbarkeit after my first margarita.

i dropped Z off just in time to leave to meet him.  i drove like a bat out of hell, weaving my way down the highway.  i pulled into the parking lot at the same time as him.  magic.  we parked.  i didn't know where he was.  as i got out of my car, he was calling me.  i stepped around the back of the SUV parked next to me and saw him, his back was turned and he was walking away from me.

"where are you?" he asked...

i was grinning ear to ear when i answered...

"look behind you," and hung up.

we started making out right away.  he said, "let's get out of here."  and we walked to my car.

our time was short.  i drove, once again, like a bat out of hell.  this time in the opposite direction.  traffic was thick.  i wove through it impatiently.  i was irritated.  he put my hand on his cock.  we groped each other as i drove.

we had only enough time for a whirlwind of a quickie after getting to my apartment.  i dropped to my knees and pulled his cock out immediately, hungry to take it in my mouth again.  i worked my lips, tongue, and throat all over it.  his response turned me on almost more than i could stand...

"oh god..."

and then he said my name.

i fucking love it when he says my name.

i looked up at him, my face spackled with spit from sucking his cock.  he pulled me to my feet and kissed me again, pulling up my skirt and rubbing my pussy...now a torrential downpour of juices from several hours of anticipation.

he pushed my sweater up, exposing my tits.  he grabbed onto one and slapped it.  he spun me around and i bent over for him, more than ready for him to fuck me.  his cock, still wet with my spit, slipped through the lips of my pussy and plunged into me.  hard.  my legs kept giving out.  he was making me almost fall down from being fucked so hard.  it felt incredible.

when he was close to cumming, he pulled out and i again dropped to my knees to finish him off.  he came down my throat.  i don't know that i've ever gotten off on getting someone else off quite as hard as i did as i swallowed his seed.

i washed the cum down with a swig of ten high, and sat on the couch to smoke a cigarette.

he sat next to me and fingered my still dripping wet pussy, slapping my tits, his tongue in my mouth.  he stood me up, and slapped my ass and my thighs.  it was so hot.  we made out more, he finger fucked me a while longer...but the inevitable text alert telling him to get back to the van came through.  i almost cried.  he told me not to.  i reminded him to grab his phone charger.  then we left.

i still could barely believe he came back.

we kissed one more time before he got out of my car.

and i drove off...smiling.


"We need, in love, to practice only this:  letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it."-Rilke


well... i'll tell ya.

so, yesterday i had a biopsy of my cervix.  this isn't the first time i've had this happen.  i'm guessing it's probably not the last, either.

but it's definitely the first time i've had one since i had the (for lack of a better term) sexual reawakening that i have been experiencing over the course of the past year.

and, well...i'll tell ya.  it's got me real messed up.

i only recently (finally) came to a place in my life where i feel like my pussy is beautiful.  and i love it.  like...it is a huge part of my identity.  it has experienced traumas in the past.  it has been abused at the hand of another.  it has healed.  it has been abused by the hand of still another.  and healed again.  there have been years of my life where i did not identify with my pussy.  i barely identified with my femininity at all.  sex was mechanical.  i was always detached.  i did it because it felt like some sort of obligation.  and i always checked out.

something changed after i met my ex-husband, even more changed when i started bellydance and started to feel empowered by my femininity.  i started wearing flowers in my hair.  i tried out burlesque.

even though my marriage sent me to hell and back, it was a powerfully transitional relationship.  and well...even though the sex was vanilla...at least i experienced what making love was like.

and so, a lot of the trauma i experienced in the past began to heal while i was with my ex.

some months after that relationship ended...i started to love my snatch.

really love it.  to the point that it has become the center of my being, in a sense.

so, to hear that i had to have tissue removed...that there was something abnormal with my cervix, and my uterus is displaced...it was traumatic.  disturbing. 

i went in for my biopsy frantically trying to focus on something else.  i had a quiz for one of my classes that evening.  i studied my notes in the waiting room.  when they put me in the exam room, i stripped down, put the cloth over my lap, and studied my notes while i waited for the procedure to start.

the doctor praised me for being so studious.  i was like, man...i am just trying to keep my mind off of the fact that you are about to scrape my fucking pussy out.  i didn't say it out loud.  but internally, i was shaking as i thought it.

she apologized when she put the speculum in.  she apologized when she applied the solution that highlights the areas that are abnormal on the cervix.  and she apologized again when she was about to take the samples, saying, "this is going to feel pretty crampy...i'm sorry."

and yeah.  it felt fucking crampy.  it felt really fucking crampy.

all day it was really fucking crampy.  i shoved a giant pad in my panties and asked for some ibuproferen before i left.  fortunately, they obliged.  i went home and passed out.  i couldn't stay awake for the discomfort.  couldn't move without it hurting more.

i went to school to take my exam and it was like hell walking to my classroom.  a half mile walk.  intense cramping every step.  and my menstrual cramps have always been bad.  this was something else.

i couldn't stop thinking about the fact that there was a scrape inside my pussy.  it still gives me the heebie jeebies.

even worse now.

you may have noticed in an earlier post how one of my directives from the devil is to jerk off every day.


i didn't yesterday due to the pain and the fact that i was bleeding out and just...miserable.

today, i tried.

and failed.

for some reason...morbid curiousity, i suppose...i stuck a finger in my pussy...just to check it out...to see if i could take anything in there.  (i was feeling pretty cock-crazed, honestly.)  and that's when i felt it.

the damage.

the fucking damage.

cue the waterworks.

i hadn't realized until that moment just how fragile and powerful my pussy is.  and just how much i care about it.  what is usually supple, soft, tender, silky, wet and warm is now rough, sandpaper-like, dry, crusty even.

it's a giant fucking scab all over the walls of my womanhood.


as i touched it, i felt like i was weeping not just for my own vagina, but for every traumatized vagina that has ever existed.

i was weeping for the entire matriarchal consciousness since the beginning of time.

i can't really even come up with a way to end this post.  i'm sitting here, several hours later, drinking a tall can of pabst with my windows open trying to figure out what to do with myself.  i feel horrible.  i don't want to be seen in public.  i just want to curl up with a book and try again tomorrow.  it bugs me out to know that the devil is going to come across this post eventually.  i...just...

*covers face*
"in the slaughterhouse of love, they kill only the best, none of the weak or deformed. don't run away from this dying. whoever's not killed for love is dead meat." - rumi