misstree shove your tongue deep into me,
lick the parts that are raw and bleeding
as fingers claw furrows into haughty back.
we will wrestle with the strength of titans,
we will thrust into eachother,
essences locked, sex and combat indistingushable,
and gasp with each penetration.
make it hurt.
make me *feel* it.
make it so i can't turn away.
me Something about your words Misstree turns me on - yes, primeval and ancient desires stir inside. Older than the rivers of time, older than spoken word or fires that brim on stone of earth....
Ravaging in your cage I hang beside my bed, whispers or bellows that i cannot see...an unseen phoenix that silently twists my insides like a claw of pure speech...
I drift away in times awaiting hands, pondering this starnge feeling.
Death of a Rose take your hair in my fist,
make you bite the oozing wounds,
malicious love is beating my
head, how can i react with equal ferocity and fearful loathing,
with ease and slanted eyelids,
gasping exertion through my altar,
rampage through your temples,
salt the earth where i pass,
malingering with bamboo slivers,
manacles i clasp around your wrists and ankles,
time is not your friend here,
beyond passion is my passion,
expect respite,
not quite,
gather my coils up with venom i strike,
let your monster loose,
ply it with words of punctures and craft.
Evil Chuckles and i'll play barry manilow while i do it. 031113
Doar come travel my "Road",
and you will understand why
this is my perpetual filing
of pain and embraces, down to surgical brightness and sterility.
misstree i passion your unthinkable defiance,
grinning into the game of
bloody mouths and poisoned tongues.
you call my own monsters upon me,
guide them as they ravage.

skill unseen for so long
sends me reeling, enfeebles me
in the moments when i most want to lunge.
you know all the forgotten tricks,
and i am slowed by complacency's rot.

still i am no easy prey, not as long as i wield
haughty reserves, hardened eyes.
as long as i have strength to lift
the gate out of my home, as long as
i surge and growl, i will tear at you,
and drink you, and
guide your violations.
misstree come walk in my forest,
and you will meet the monsters
that rot my breath, feel ground
spongy with blood severed from life
endlessly seeking to replenish
the memory of being inside.
Death of a Rose this charnal pit of camoflaged introduction,
sweating in heightened pulses,
you want my bare breast?

tease me more and you shall have
both halves of my grey matter,
fused in the reincarnation of lava fingers.
misstree if you were any less than you are,
i would laugh at your invitations,
showing you the teeth that would
rend you from yourself,
but instead, how shall i tease you?
should i thrust myself upon you?
that has been introductory snarls,
the scentings of species.
should i trace my tongue to
lines hard and soft, taste flesh and metal
and define you in flavors not found
in common beasts?
no; it is all i can do to explain
that devouring is not destruction,
there is much to be known
in the belly of the beast,
and i want to look into your eyes,
pant with you and sweat with you
as each inch is tainted.
Death of a Rose easy prey are unchallenging,
hard prey writhing makes for far better satisfaction.

and throughout i will smile with my fangs on your wrists
jackknife boots upon your bones,
deaths head upon my dilation,
sweet black and blue,
countless times of 'no' tradgedies,
sockets for your appendages,
there is more to a name then,
sweet smelling,
for death is quick with his scythe,
grovel now and challenge him to a game,

you enjoy my 'i'm not all sunshine and roses' phase of delicate nibbling,
misstree grovel? grovel???
boy, i have twenty tongues all tied to lash,
and sharpness in places meant to soothe.
i have fleetness in my fingertips set to
stab a sparrow at a million yards,
i have fangs that have brought gods low.
play i will, and even bend,
and allow you to break me if you can,
but grovel, darling,
that is for lower creatures.

these words of yours are dangerously delicious,
this tongue of yours too well trained to be
pretended to. balance well,
your pedestal is narrow, and unused to
ascendants who did not laboriously
claw their way past throngs of indifferences
to alight on it a moment.
grindmath fuck me with literature
and i'll make love to you
with a siloquey i overheard
one moonlit night.
Death of a Rose looks like a threesome mystery,
and i delight with pure malavolence your guided strikes and careful

my, my, you are the little fury feeder.

hope i've given you enough to do some rending for your next goth night out

as said once on another page...

all my blades and thorns at your disposal m'lady
x i've enjoyed this blather much more than any others in a long time. 031114
misstree indeed, darling flower's fatality, i am a fury_feeder when such rare opportunities arise, and it is a taste i have not savored in so very, very long... so rare to find thoughts able to race through these lands with me... my deepest thanks for the dance, this has sated a thirst that meat cannot, especially not the cattle in these parts... my next act of destruction shall be twice as terrible thanks to your thoughts, my grin twice as bloody... you have my fondest gratitude... 031115
Death of a Rose calculated savageness,
measured once and measured twice,
undulating beneath my lash,
purity and throes of delight,
take me in parts,
chew slowly,
savour every drop,
you have brought me delight
in this wasteland,
and you have given severed heads
to hoist upon my fortress spears.

and i will still make you bring gifts of deep red to me,
make you beg, make you bend, make you break,is my goal,

but i know you will never lose the eruption of your need,

but rocks become pebbles in time,
as people become ashes.

synchronicity in these emotions
black pulsing nets.
are a mystery.

shh i missed it. it would have been silly to miss it a lot, but it was one of many things that had disappeared.

i had it again, with someone who matters to me. it felt the same as it used to with you. and i now feel a longing to be with her physically.

i guess this means i am finally becoming free of you...
Death of a Rose would you be a participant hanging from your noosed filled walls?

let us play and pay the piper.

for he is the taint and shadow of us all.

suffication fantasies have ways of merging realities into fatalities.

phatasm's ogre and quickened gasps,
ask me how and i'll tell you why.

screwing my words in accordance to bare,
nectar sweet and coven shrouded,
take me as sand and hour glassed tincture.

a muse upon this glove,
humorous and slack,
curled upon my lap.
mt is itching for some eizensturde neubauten i am victim to unfuriating distances,
the little denials that latch to
the tender, chained parts.
without such chains,
where is the point of tension?

but your meat is secured so far away,
and only these words,
these little, biting words,
these supple, succulent words,
these scarlet words with their
insidious pathogens
can reach you,
can thrust me into you
and can draw your spice in return.

meantime, i will seek surrgoate meat,
will unleash insidious hours upon
unsuspecting child, innocent monkey,
and laugh with your lashes on
both of our skins.
Death of a Rose withered landscapes, colours lost, life scattered, coarsing dust is in my blood.

chaffe fall and weary plodding,
we four shall release you from your mortal wants, transfer you for sorting of beliefs.

devestation tasting chocolate mounted
and infinitely without flavour.

illuminating this small speck of your annoyance and want.
mRe and with a single breath, life was restored.
sere has returned to lush, my
hunting has found a youngling
eager for my secrets, a worthy host
for dispassionate entertainments,
and with concealed wonder i
step into the role that once
taught me claws and stone.

my focus on finding prey, meat,
nearly led me too quickly past this
unassuming bauble, a meatsoul that has
resided since my return from rebirth,
but the repetition of the circus has made me
sharp to variations, to alternate routes in
each retelling, and once the queen deigned
her nod of assent, the night's path was set.

though his brainmeat is like mine,
he has never had a guide, and i
have never had a student so directly
correlated to the landscapes that
house my darling beasts. i have never
been asked so directly to teach,
never been so logically lured to
be priest rather than worshipper.

your tongue and your lash were with me,
brutal bloom, our dancing combat colored
my restless pacing, my muttered curses
at the grey beginning of the night.
once blooms sprung, that token of
deeper draughts was perspective,
allowed me so quickly sift through
the offers and pleas, looking for the Real.
and when i found it, your voice whispered,
reminded me of roles, kept me present
within myself, and made the whole night possible.
the pretty marks placed in the merest
whisper of passion, the infuriating denials,
the haughty smiles, the easy grin
the maddening self-posession--
all of these were thanks to your thorns,
the little scratches reminding me
of where my juicy center lies.
Doar (please forgive, i've cutted and pasted the following from some other ramblings of mine)

I would write you bleeding hearts,

and cover it with toiling embraces.
Dynamic convulsion, stretched and bending.
Spare me the twitches.

Spare the heart beat.
A shadow, a timed movie.
Favorites last forever.
One pen, writing and then spelling. A sad voice screaming into grayness. Life is not accomplishments, I do not think. Life is how you have screamed with the earth. Have I saved or damned.

Delight in sound, I have known no feeling except this movement. Erratic and dancing, eyes half closed, letting the electric control movement. Addiction to sleepness nights, and thoughts.
I wonder at the zero, and laugh at it.
Feeling the transformation in my eyelids.

Into the yawning abyss;
Crawling the weave, you cast
My eyes everywhere.
Their road leads to oblivion,
We walk to extinction.

I've sung many a silent dirge,
To half remembered wounds.
And when new stars appear,
My funeral song will ride the 'Illiad'.

That is why before I dive
Towards the Mirror, I should
Wish for nothing more than
A nerve tingling kiss from you.

You should be my balanced truths.
And if I could I would play
a concerto in your mind;
just to alleviate my freedom.

Your lush vibrancy is my pen.
I cannot claim to be king of
anyone, nor would I wish to be
Instead treat us as equals, even
if you have to lie to yourself.
thumbs pressed wide apart,
forming indents in solid rock,
here is my crime, here is my chart,
coalescing upon a knock,

who is upon my entry way?
sages profound and classics penned,
bring your needle and some clay
we bring erasers for you to mend.

something simple, filled with life
continue then, my failure mirror,
leave the rock and subtle strife.
here is some cash, make it clearer.

Bring it on that moon ridden time. Flapping it's wings into a frenzy, just so you can hear it. Step in to the parlour my dearest deceit. Play upon the stage of the night and dramatize its senses. Did you hear that, the masses yearn for the morning, but I hear only my heart beat with intoxication. Roller coaster fantasies are eerliy different when you're standing in sunshine.
m_e it is in places like these that i must just pause and take in the scent, deep breath drawn over a smile serene and inscruable. it is with words like these that i pant and play, and brush fingertips with thwarted fondness as i rush off after rabbits. it is places like these that i savor and save for when they may have the whole of me. 031120
. (ack! didn't realize there was an m_e already... yep, sorries...) 031120
Thorny Man stepping stones across my oceans,
floating alone upon your seasonings.

fortune ringed and twice repented,
shallow hearts of forgiveness and praise.

flicker nameless enigma, incite this riot of nightmares on me.

terrifying and bright, endorphins swimming,
courteous values a worthy opponent.
O_A I want your words to trickle in effervesent rivulets down my burning skin. I want you to wrap your words around me tightly. I want your words to take me. I want your words to keep me. Caress this quivering girl. Show her what she's made of, let her ache deep inside herself. I want my ears to taste the words dripping with the sound of you. I want your words to cover me, to smother me. I want my lips to feel the soft vibrations of your throat as your words make love to me. I want your words inside me seeking, teasing, touching. I want your words, just as I want you. 031121
Death of a Rose then caresses are gifts i bring,
casual lightnings are beneath these nails,
narcisistic grumblings unshorn,
fortune turned as clear instillment,
blanket heat and thrusting instinct,
sufficient snarling behind your back,
the fine hairs standing,
when i breathe.
oldephebe This entire page is one delicious lascivious pageant..I love it!!!

The Guy from the funk 80's band wearing a red codpeice:"Sex? Word! Yow Yow."

Doar Clamp your folded skin, that loose bit at your elbow when your arm is strait in accusation. 040715
Borealis trace your fingers down my back
you're so gentle...I want you to own me..
to flip me over, and bite into my neck..to feel the slick between two muggy bodies..
be slow..but be deliberate...
have purpose..don't play with me..

its late..I want to forget the time..to be lost in the wonders of what can be..to taste you, and feel you writhing under my touch...

hold me tightly...and make me forget in waves..
in sharp, penetrating, deliciously hot waves..
..all over again.

and again..
magicforest i'll make you all wet with hydrochloric acid

then I'll prove to you what a powerhouse each mitochondrion can be

I'll trace my fingers along your lateral inhibition network

and put your parasympathetic system to work for me

I'll makes your retinas glow and your taste buds melt

then give you the gentle stimulation of each pink and clammy cell

orgiastically youíll burst in lysis sweeter than iodine

fluid, our biologies entwined, we dive
Borealis dear magicforest..
meet my mitochondrion.
I call him Sam

he has a crush on you. *grins*
magicforest Sam? 040717
egger *rolls around between fur blankets joyously* 060611
Emptyness Alive sex, softness, passion, erotic, alive 060612
. somebody give me a cuddle. 060612
Emptyness Alive (virtual hug) 060612
Emptyness Alive dat better 060612
. thanks - i find all this sex so intimidating. 060613
;emo all of me is a map to your love;
your fingers between my toes,
your tongue at my waist's arch;
your teeth upon my hips,
your grip upon my wrists.

promise threats and tortures
and trial by denial;
lick me, trap me, tickle me;
kiss me.

trace the turns of my ribs,
cup the curves of my thighs,
tease me open,
force me apart,
take me,
make me,
f my! what a long tie you have! 060614
stork daddy How can one ever tell how close one is to success until that miraculous moment is upon them? When he is before her, as close as two can come, and they are pushing to each other so deeply that it almost seems enough. There is a brief moment of peace there, before the taint of self-consciousness returns, before the boundaries are remembered, and the distance and separation that makes the external world the external world render an experience that promised to be strange unjustly common. There is an alienation from aspects of our experience in self-awareness that is only conceivable in how it contrasts with those rare moments of forgetting when we seem to become our motion and the stop motion expressions on the face of another.

And these days I think I could go for a spirituality that demands submission if it carried the promise of rapture. If it allowed an embrace of the beloved from which I would never return.

This has been a rare moment of spiritual longing in the life of jimmy cotter. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
Dire Door can still bring life to the old.

Doar I did enjoy delving into the sacrificial blood pit.


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