Lilac Wine :: a warzone towards haiku

November 9, 2010


Filed under: Text — Tags: , — Lilac @ 9:00 am

She has red patent leather heels. I’m in a ball-gag. Do you like my shoes, Lilac? Just nod for yes…

She and my brother dual headfuck me like a tug-of-war game. It does make him smile to hurt people; and that is the definition of a sadist, isn’t it? I nod.
My brother returns with Am I a sadist, dear? Calling him a sadist always means pain until I take it back. But I’m averse to lying: Yes, I say.

He hurts me. She’s earnest, she says.


September 18, 2010


Filed under: Text — Tags: — Lilac @ 12:55 pm

You rode a thin line between art and abuse, and the monster’s mask you wore to choke and restrain me was like the face you’d had in genuine rage minutes earlier. Your little Lilac, parchment paper for your maps became the map; bitten and sobbing in genuine fear.

What words are in your head? you ask.
Thank you. (Gratitude becomes customary.)

Where do you want me? I ask.
I want you present, as if you’re fighting for your life.

You’re teaching me to fight, brother. You’re giving me something worthy of fighting for; and something to fight against. (Like a litter of kittens…)

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