Cat. I am a kitty cat! ♫

You just sang "and I dance, dance, dance, and I dance, dance, dance"♫♪
Now that we have the formality of me making a random joke out of the way, we can get to the kosher, vegan, 100% FDA approved, grass fed, ball gagged, bacon...
I am the BPD byproduct of two people that should have not had a kid. Kink didn't bring me into this world but I will be damned if it didn't keep me from leaving it. I was sexually active at an age that was very "one sided". Instead of being a typical four year old victim, I decided to Carpe Diem. I was having kids three years my senior doing things I found in my father's Penthouse. Side note: my parents were very lost souls that were both stripped of their innocence and fed to the proverbial wolves. As humans they were some of the best they could be with the demons that haunted their minds. As parents they were not. I was never sexually abused by either of them. That does not mean that they ever protected me from others doing so. I remember the first porn I saw at the ripe age of five, that the neighbor boy showed his younger sister and I. The woman was bent over a kitchen counter and pleasured in the ass. From that day on I was interested in all things erotic in nature. I self-pleasured at a far too young age because my body rejected the fact I was being raped and instead became a sex crazed beast. I had no knowledge of that at the time; I was just doing what felt natural. Who didn't make their Barbies have stupid hot sex and even spit on them to make sure it was extra nasty? Most children, that's who. I was stripping for an audience of stuffed animals and dancing like the girls on MTV whenever I was able to be alone. Kids at elementary school were learning how to spell and read as I was learning how to read the adults in the room and get what I wanted out of them. I was a naturally pathetic kid and used that to my advantage. If my parents used our food money for tar and I was hungry, I got food from the teachers. If I was not clothed properly for the winter other kid’s parents would buy me the jackets I wanted. I knew that a kid speaking to an adult about things they cared about was the ticket. Fathers wanted to know that their wives didn't appreciate them and mothers wanted to know their kids didn't treat them the way they deserved. By middle school I thought I had everything figured out. I may have been book stupid and poor as hell; however, I was rich in street smarts and thank DNA had a face better than radio. I had a boyfriend when I was in 6th grade that let me know being a freak was okay. I found this out after sneaking out of the church window and going to his house to make out for what felt like a life time. He had a ball bashing kink. The childish Christian in me told me he was going to get me sent to hell... So did the girl ironically named Heaven that I kissed. The only person at that point in my life that had shown me unconditional love was starting to become a rather prudish dick, who told me the things that I felt and knew about myself were unacceptable and was becoming more and more conditional with his love for me. I was between a rock hard clit and a hard place. Did I follow the hormones and emotions that drove me, or go with God? Oh don't worry it goes in a direction I didn't even expect. I told God to fuck himself, hooked up with a guy who should have known "14 will get you 20", and prayed that we spend the rest of our lives together. Soon my mother did what she was good at and let me and my sister down by dying. Good move mom. We were adopted by her brother and his wife. On the day we met him, the dirt was not even cold from my mom being put into it and he said to me, towering at 6'6", "I didn't rape your mother". I was at my sister’s school to watch the ghetto production of Willy Wonka. I remembered my mother telling me once when she was high that he had raped her for the entirety of her childhood and her mother called her a liar, which is strange as she called me the same thing. We were then whisked away from stoner Colorado to the white hell that is Vermont. I told myself that the minister, my uncle, was a man of God and eventually warmed up to him…silly girl. I was raped for 2 ½ years by a man who looked like the thing that scared me as a child, Santa. I told myself, much like I did as a little girl, that it was better this happen to me than my sister. Now don’t start to feel bad as this all shaped me in one fucked up way or another. As I went through the pain of puberty I continued to very slowly figure myself out. By this point I was sneaking porn anyway I could just to satisfy my need to see men pleasure women any way they could. I found that seeing a woman stripped of her insecurities and clothes, allowed her to fully accept the things that pleased her. I took more virginities than I can count, all the while seeming like the ugly new girl. I counted on the fact that no one would believe me if I said I had sex with so and so. After all, who would want to see me naked or even touch me? Oh high school girls are so stupidly mean. Isn’t it fucking great how I would enjoy their boyfriends before they got to? I broke more boys then Taylor Swift has had her heart broken. My senior year I was uprooted with my “perfect family” to South of Nowhere…South Dakota. Now let me get one thing straight for you, I am a very glass has anything in it I’m happy kind of person, regardless of whether it’s half full or half empty. However, South Dakota was the worst part of my life. The kids were all fucked up, the parents were worse, and everything had to do with God. I had at this point in my life found that being a Jew was a nice way to keep people from telling you how great the Son of God was, because I would remind them “my people killed him”. I did get to find out that I liked hurting men as much as I liked them hurting me. That epiphany and my dog are the only good things I can take from that shit hole of a state. To expand, I got my boyfriend at the time a bull whip and told him to make things fun. He slapped me in the face after a few lashings, and then found out I was far stronger than I looked. This experience taught me that I could take the power into my own hands, and enjoy it. Oh to be young and horny. The joys of life were few and far between. After eventually sending “Santa” to prison I went through a hurricane of emotions about what I should and should not enjoy about sex. Turns out if someone rapes you all soft and gentle like it just fuels your “fuck me like a whore” fire. After moving to a state I didn’t even know existed, I reconnected with the guy mentioned earlier who was old enough to be my father. Fun fact, his oldest daughter is only six years younger than me. He helped me accept who I was, and that was something I had lost when I lost my life in Colorado. I grew from a victim of rape to become a victor of sex. I got a job at a smut shop and found that being the one in charge was all I had ever wanted in life, and that I could indeed be just that and have men pay for it. I saw what a Dom was and needed to have that kind of power. I was also reaching my “expiration date”, or at least that is what my “old man” thought. Eventually I found myself feeling worthless and the least sexy that I had ever felt. At that point in my life I had never considered infidelity. I then was introduced by a friend to the guy who would change that, or at least make an exception for that summer. He was smart and fun and best of all loved to have crazy sex with me, no matter how spontaneous or different it was. We fucked in windows above busy streets with crowds watching, in rooms at the local college with the door open, and in parks in the middle of the day. I found someone as fucked up as I was. Eventually he wanted me to be his, and that was not something I was comfortable with. I had a few other flings at the time that made me feel less and less confident in myself. I found myself sexually frustrated as all get out, and messing with people on Chat Roulette. OkayCupid helped me stumble upon a guy I was with for many years. He helped me accept myself with just enough time to tell me that my weight was a problem and I didn’t turn him on. He also had hard limits on just about all things that had me in charge. Life was becoming sexually lack luster to say the least. I woke up, had my weight control breakfast, went to work, had a very scarce lunch, and would come home with just enough time to make him a big hot meal that I would have very little if any of. Fate would have it that I am a very big flirt and working at a bank allowed me to get some attention from humanity. That is where I found the one man I would proudly bow to. He was breathtaking, mysterious, and had the look of someone I wanted inside of me. We eventually found ourselves naked at the same time. I call it good timing on my part (I popped by his place when I knew he was in bed). What can I say, he smelled like someone I wanted to smell like. I have been with him ever since and call him, Daddy, Master, Lover, and best friend. I have never willingly been a submissive person until I met him, and will never submit to anyone else. We own one another and feel that I have found my one. He is the only person since I have become an adult that pleases me perfectly. 

S A D

My mind is a murky blend of distortion.

I can’t help but feel everything and everything is excruciating.

Nothing makes since and I am scared out of my mind of my mind.

My tears flow like stinking poison down my hot distorted face.

I run until I can’t breathe. Yet, I can’t escape myself. The monster and hero are one and the same.

Is this Fight Club? Do I have to shoot myself to get to the happy ending and kill that voice in my head?

Where did Marten go? He has always protected me from the others and now he is gone and I am left to fight alone.

Good, bad, day, night as soon as the light fades I can’t tell you the difference between any of it.

As the transformation hits the horror rips free of its chains and the heroin is left naked and afraid.

I am SAD so very SAD.

Failure

Woe is I the repeat offender of frailer. Fixated only on perfection, has lost her vision and ability to perform. Nothing makes since and all is wrong in her ever shrinking world. What she thought she had a grip on is now, just a mess of confusion. The only thing that she can take comfort in is 42. Yet, how do you apply 42 to a soon to be Written Corrective Action?  Shale I beg for forgiveness as I have every time before? Admit defeat before the battle even begins? After all, this is a corporate monster, and I am no Joan of Arc. Yet, they will burn me at the stake none the less. I obsess over what is asked of me and somehow forget the rest of everything. I am a one trick pony that beats a dead horse with a stick of recklessness. Open, blunder, repeat. Open, blunder, repeat. If I wasn’t so easy to hate why would they keep me around? As a woman I should have far less of an opinion and more cleavage. That trick won’t work either, as I work amongst and under other women that scratch at the same man made glass ceiling. Fear is what I fear the most at work, not getting fired. The tense stress and anxiety that builds and eats me from the inside out, and the ever lingering smell of dirty money is what haunts me as I wait to be “spoken with”. I know you’re not mad, you’re just disappointed. If I knew what was coming other than the spine chilling, creepy feeling of dread that fallows me even into my sleep, this wouldn’t be so bad. How would they have any control if we didn’t fear them? Fear is respect right?

King Ellenwood of the North

T’was a cold and rainy morn on the langskip with its fearless leader King Ellenwood and his band of Jarls headed to the Isle of Man. The quest was that of retribution, save the beloved Marcee. There would be no bargaining, no pillaging, and no stopping on this trip, no, just bloodlust and murder; for they took the lady of the land and the only punishment for that is damnation to the pits of Hel. For on this day Odin smiled on the King, and the King smiled in kind. It was a good day for bloodshed and vengeance. The icy sea wind slapped the Kings long frozen curls against the prow. This bothered him not, as his many furs and leathers that Marcee had sewn kept him warm, and today they would keep him safe from Jormungand. The men were ready to feel the warmth of their enemy’s blood. The King’s ulfberht, Callum, was freshly sharpened and still hot from the iron. This battle looked to be a quick one. However, the Assbans were known for using their piss wine to bribe trolls to help them in battle. Bastards. Just passed the fog would be the land where the battle for Marcee would start. There would be no war chant, no drum, none of the slant eyed man’s fire. They knew the wrath of Ellenwood was coming for them and all their bloodline. Marcee’s Garmr set off on this crusade as well, for she came from Hel to protect Marcee and would continue to do so.

**

Garmr was the first off the langskip racing over the dead earth into the infinite fog. The smell of piss and the dreaded Pesta were heavy. The King shouted “Keep your eyes keen for the lady in black and Odin help us, breath through your mouth”. The Jarls tied the ship down and gathered their weapons. The hike to the castle of Assban had many mental and psychological trials. The sea had been dry of fish and their crops were poison for years, for they prayed to a false god by the name of Wallfund.  Idolizing his false promises and hatred of all things, even Loki seemed like a good guy in comparison. The first trial would be that of ‘luck’. The shores were blanketed with ponds, a breeding ground for Nokk. If the Jarl was of open mind and short on coin he may not pass his trial with the Nokken. May it be the beautiful man before him or stallion that promises to speed up his journey, his death will be slow and no man alive can save them. Next was the Fossegrimmen. His hideous fiddle playing could not be pinned down in the fog and would eventually drive you mad if you let it. Because the hike took two days’ time, the men feared the Mare. No man alive was stronger than the Mare. A strong Viking is a rested Viking, and the Mare is patent and will sit and wait to get you. There is no way to fight it and no way to escape it. Just pray to Heimdall that you are in his favor. As they drew nearer the bone shaking howls of Garmr could be heard in the distance.

**

How does one know they are in the realm of Assban? Well of course the troll shit wiped on the trees and the stench of piss wine. At the drawbridge was a golden tower for their beloved Wallfund. The King looked to his men and scoffed “The gold it took to make all these towers could have fed their people yet they give it to the Wallfund. What small minds the Assban have! I wonder how they please their women.” The bridge was slick with shit and vomit. The lady in black had been here for some time. Garmr’s howls were becoming fainter, a sign that she was in the castle. There was going to be a trail of blood leading the way to Marcee, for nothing in the nine worlds had a stronger bond than this hound from Hel. The King had his biggest men cut down a pine tree and his other men build large fires that had bundles of sage. The smoke would purify the air before the battle and if they didn’t throw the traitors bodies in the fire they would join their families in Valhalla.

**

It was nightfall as the men got ready for combat. War paint covered the exposed skin. They had all fasted the night before just to increase their hunger for killing. Not a man was lost on the hike and not a man would be lost in the battle with the bitch men of Assban, or their drunken trolls. For their King had led them in battles far worse and with smaller numbers. They were always victorious and never in vain, for he fought for his people and the good of his country. Duhlyse, the Lady Prince of Assban asked for a word with the King, for “Bloodshead is in poor taste you brut”. The King yelled to his men to “Tear down the wall! Cut off their heads! Spill all of their blood!” The Lady Prince called for its eunuch bitch slave Kelmi. Kelmi tried pleading with the King for mercy “for there are kids in the kingdom”. The King was disgusted by Kelmi’s distorted face and vexing voice. He responded with “you mean your inbred kin that are bathed in piss wine and fed to the trolls? There death is on your hands peasants”.

**

Not one hours’ time and they had broken in. Met by no surprise by piss drunk trolls, their ulfberhts and battle axes ripped their limbs off with ease. The smaller and faster men were ordered to ‘set the houses on fire and kill every women, man, and child. Not even the animals make it out alive’. The King followed the sound of the trusted Hel hound. Howls, bones being broken, and men’s screams could be heard thoroughout the castle. Behind him were the sounds of steel on bone and the scent of burning flesh and hair. This was starting off as a great battle. The Assbans underestimated the amount of wine it would take to get a troll drunk and how ‘well’ they battle. They have big mouths and small brains, but only someone who has cut one up would know that. Upon entering the great hall, the King spotted Kelmi naked throwing itself to another of the golden towers praying “Let the lady in black ravage that awful man before he can get me. For I have done nothing wrong and everything is his fault”. The King laughed out loud and put his ulfberht away. He looked upon the foul beast of a person and said “I will take as much pleasure in killing you as I do bedding my wife, beast”. The King grabbed it by the neck and flung the bitch beast across the room hitting the cheap gold tower. As its spine cracked against the tower, the tower crumbled and broke into shit dust. For it was nothing more than a painted tower of troll dung. The Beast started to scratch at its face and slap itself screaming “HE HITS ME HE HITS ME! WALLFUND, SEE HOW HE HURTS ME! I AM YOUR HUMBLE SERVENT!” The King again laughed, “Are you part Troll? I can smell your shit from here and so can your God!” The King was done with Kelmi’s games. He grabbed its head in his hand and slammed it like a rotten fruit against the cobbles. The smell of filth filled the air. “Good riddance!”

**

Now in the underbelly of the castle the King could smell the hell hound’s rank breath. Marcee was ever closer. The King needed no fire in the darkness, for he relied only on his keen sense of hearing and agility to get to the oubliettes. Nearing them he happened upon what seemed to be a pond with an island that had a sky hole just above it. Under its light was the beloved Marcee on a throne of thorns and spikes dripping with what one could only image was her blood. By her side was a sickly strange looking Garmr. Not the hound that fought its way from Hel to find her. Out from behind the throne slithered Duhlyse. Not man or woman, this swine had the boldness to put its hands on the King’s woman and attempt a grin saying, “See how she quivers with pleasure as I stroke her?” as it ran a sharp bone dagger across her bare chest where her medallion once hung. The very medallion that the King gave her the first night he bedded her, and promised that ‘as long as she wore that, he would be with her and protect her’. Rage filled the King’s eyes; all he could see was red. The shimmer on the water surrounding Marcee was a telltale sign of Nokken. The sparkle the water gave off was one the King had never seen in his many years. ‘How many Nokk could there be in this small body of water’ thought the he. He emptied his pockets of silver and stripped down to his bare chest in preparation to cross the clearly crooked pond. He wanted to use nothing but his strength to protect his one, his all, his love. “I know what she is, you fake! You are no King you are just using this Hulder to win battles for you. Is it even a female? Let’s find out!” Duhlyse went to cut off the small bit of cloth that was covering Marcee’s flower as the King charged. Forcing the vile scum against the throne of thorns, Duhlyse screamed out in agony. Holding its bone dagger hand high above both their heads the King whispered in its ear, “I am going to kill you now”. Breaking out into psychotic laughter Duhlyse shouted, “Not before she dies!” It turned its head to the hound and shouted “Kill her”! The beast lunged for her. In the blink of an eye the King had the animal’s throat in hand. However, as he did this Marcee, or what was Marcee, melted away into the pond. “Nokken be gone!” screamed the King, letting go of the obviously dazed hound. A sharp pain in the king’s right side took him by surprise. The bone dagger was drove deep into the King’s neck and ear, staggering, he head-butted Duhlyse unconscious. The King broke off the bit of dagger that was not in him and went on to shake the hound back to its senses. The use of Marcee’s blood on the throne, and Nokk must have thrown the hound. Once on its feet Garmr again was off running but now with the fire of Hel in her eyes. The King was quick to follow, running across the pond and grabbing up his gear. Running alongside the hound toward a tower that held what looked to be a body. “Marcee my world, speak to me!” He grasped her cold bare body that only donned the sacred medallion. Her left wrist had a deep gash across it. “This was where they got all the blood for their vile trap” thought the king. He wrapped her in his furs and carried her to the boat. Live or die he had her in his arms again and Assban was nothing but an ember.

**

A few hours at sea and Garmr began to pace the boat. Was known hounds from hel had no place on open water but Garmr had braved far worse conditions. Soon deep howls followed the pacing. The men began to speak softly amongst themselves, all different theories. Some thought ‘the kraken was coming for the women to give her a proper Viking sendoff’. Others said ‘a vortex was going to appear and take them to Hel because of that damn mutt’. The King worried not, continuing to navigate the dark night sea under the winter stars. The hound all of the sudden leaped from the stern to the bow, where Marcee lay. The hound was crouching over her and bearing its teeth, with all hair on end, along with everyone else’s. The King shouted at the beast “what has gotten into you dog?” Realizing that this was now a standoff, the King pulled out Callum and took the beast’s head off. Instantly Marcee shot up gasping for air screaming, “Noooo!” The King grasped her in his arms so tight he hurt her. She was alive, but what of her hound?

My Mother

My mother, the monster beneath my bed and person who kissed my head.

My mother, followed by demons and lived like a heathen.

My mother, lover of drugs and giver of hugs.

My mother, she lived as she died, carelessly.

Leola Kay, I would like to say that on this day you died for nothing. However, you lived in moments. Some of those moments were spectacular, some were pure chose, most were things I have regressed, and some were even full of love. You were as lost as Alice in the rabbit’s hole, fallowing a high that you could never quit catch. As fake as a porcelain doll you had people even believing you gave a shit. You were a great person and amazing mother. Heroin however, was your heroine. She ruled and ruined your existence. Without her you were both the best and worst you. Because you chose to live vicariously through a high state of mind you didn’t relies how much of a low life you were. I wanted so much for a mother and instead was given a full sized child. Ironic, how you raised me to raise you. I was your mother, daughter, friend, and whipping boy. I don’t hate or even despise you. I am just disappointed in you.

Too hot!

Because sometimes it's good to stand and stare into your fridge like an empty, bottomless, pit of entertainment. Eating cherry tomatoes and itching your foot on the floor. Whilst thinking random thoughts that are often dirty but sometimes not. Your high as fuck, but you still feel low. You reach your foot back to close the fridge but instead kick your cat in her side. She reacts dramatically by lying down as if being deflated. I know she's not hurt, but she is as dramatic as her mother. So she's going to play it up. Instead of caring on my day of nothingness, upstairs, I now sit on the floor intrigued by my cat. I think to myself what is cat? Deep question for someone as high as myself. And in that very moment my cat looks deeply inside of me as if asking herself 'what is human'? We share this moment, her and I,  just asking ourselves what is? Eventually we both came to the conclusion that we are getting a little too gay and went our own separate ways. Today's a hot day! It's too hot to be dressed, too hot to move, too hot to breathe. My air conditioner is not and it seems like my fridge is only working subpar. Why am I writing this you ask? Because it's too hot to do anything else.

Me, but not Myself, nor I

I feel worthless. 

I feel stupid. 

I feel useless. 

I feel nothingness overcoming me and eating all of my 'goodness'. 

Despite how hard I try and fight, it's all for not. 

The change of seasons that kills the trees, in turn kills my spirit and traps me in a hibernation of depression.  

Frozen, in a self made tomb of self hate, as fragile as glass, and sharp as a knife. To insure to keep any possibility of help far from reach. 

Till spring can spring me from this morose penitentiary; I will be stuck with this sick and demented version of myself.