The Thirst has Been Quenched. That Metal, Leather, Bondage Thirst.

I found my man.

My metal man.

To guide my path towards welding, fabricating and my artistic journey into creating bondage pieces.  Belts, bars and cuffs. Oh My!

I can not begin to express my excitement and gratitude towards working with someone so experienced and familiar with what I envision.  Taking on someone so unfamiliar and naive to the trade is going to be a challenge…but what can I say?  I present some strong ideas and am some damn good company to boot.  I am a padawan.

I can almost taste the steel and feel the welts.

My Spring and Summer have been taken by my passion and journey beginning this weekend.

It’s going to be sick.

(I’ll include some old school sketches just for the sake of a basic premise…recent sketches are rough, secretive and so much more awesome in every aspect)

 

 

A favorite revisited, reposted

‘Fire of my loins’
The left foot was nothing. Pure bliss and happiness, no thoughts, just doing. It was the right foot that brings me to this dramatic, baneful happening of self reflection and euphoria.
A sick euphoria that I only understand.
At least I tell myself that I am truly the only one who understands. Deep down I know this is false.
The hottest bath I have ever drawn. Not purposely. I just happened to be hopelessly caught up in finding the perfect depressing lyrics to accompany me with this soak that the amount of cold did not compliment the full blown heat nearing the rim of the plain, generic, ‘let’s pretend it’s porcelain’ bathtub.
Accidentally filling to capacity yet intentionally tormenting and inviting my body and vulnerability. The two go very well together…testing me.
It was my surrender.
My resignation to the defective complex created by something special.
A breakdown, a defect, a love story.
Eating away at my surface and my mind.
I hand my comfort over to the reflective alloy beside me as if it were my friend, telling me that this will go away.
It will.
This bath is my conflagration and I am only two feet in.
Slowly I subject myself to the purity before me ready to murk it up.
I suppose you can say I am just as well taking away it’s innocence in return.
My intentions are not as vulgar.
I force my skin into the burning pool.
A sigh of pain and pleasure prematurely escape.
I am never as strong as I presume and I am becoming increasingly aware that it is for my own safety.
This alloy slips below to remind me that everything is okay.
Reminds me that I am in control.
Something has to.
I am aware of it’s invisibility, that’s okay.
It takes a particular strength to release that admirable wavelength on the visible spectrum reflecting the paint to my existence.
It will never happen.
It would be so beautiful. So beautiful.
Mesmerizing and unlike any drug. Hypnotizing and sexual.
Dirty.
Clean.
I am in a stupor.
It’s become too much I tell myself, though I know it has not.
My tresses drenches and the aching sensitivity running across my skin and lathering my scalp urges me to arise and come back to a life I have purposely tortured and teased yet fight for daily.
Collapsing is not far from reality.
So good. So legal.

Sometimes you have to puke

The Drama Queen is back and this is only the beginning…start ignoring (for your own good)

All I see are colors, a consolidation of colors construed into nothing of importance or direction. Difficult to project. Someday I suppose.
Pigment and shade make up my existence. I see life in such a way that lacks reality and exudes an overwhelming need to except what is.
Listening to no one, not even myself, time fades…escapes. I escape.
Ideas turn into outlets, that then turn into outcomes. I have found to be comfortable with all outcomes. So comfortable that emotions are dropped deep into a placid pool to be forgotten and replaced by burnt paths to euphoric nothingness.
Falling apart slowly, but most definitely surely. Historic thoughts of repetition and routine evaporate alongside the chamomile steam and my scorching, lymphatic soaks.
Again.
Jesus Christ, again.
I will revisit my words and find what I have hidden away like my own personal plague.
A friend is dying. Hours, days, weeks…I do not know how much longer is left but this friend will be dead. I gave life to something that must die. This is how god must feel if there was one. Or is one. Whatever. Creating life and destroying it.
There is so much to say that will be left cold and tucked away. Some things take time…some things are better left unsaid and that can take time to realize. At least I have developed to some degree in this existence.
I will learn to adapt, move on, get by. Direction will come of these colors and soon they will be organized and contained. Thrown onto a canvas and given life. A new life that I create in name of the life passed. It’s a new inspiration. An inspiration that has been struggling to reach the surface for a gasp of breath, held back by an enigma.
Bring me my tea, I’ll pretend it’s my wine.

Humanoid baby girls cry like big girls

Three of the minis. Need cleaning up but that’s for another day.

I think my mom is mad at me…

Censor me…hmmmm…yah.

“cum shot”

Progress shot…C** shot. Come on now.

Bring me your tools.
Tool.
Show me and let me taste it, the whole cake, frosting, eternity is too short.
Finally at ease and becoming one with the vision that was clouded by judgment and sickness.
The cure to this sickness is something so raw and hard.
Shall I draw that sensuous, sin incriminating flow of life? Yes.
I won’t rush this time…Suck it in and absorb it.
My bitch. I don’t feel so bad. She is exhausted, she knows what’s up. Present and affectionate.
Layered in pearls, diamonds and internal light she feels sad but remembers…
What is broken can be trained. Cured and reconditioned.
Give me your tears and surrender to my heat.
Take it in, all in… like you know and as you have been trained.
I admire life and it’s donations. Blinded by crimson dreams and release, it is now known.
To me.
Known, only to I and no one else…just as I love and behold.
Some things never change.
There was a time that what was known could be shared…no more.
“Rose tints my world and keeps me safe from my trouble and pain”.

It’s all over.
So it begins.

(My midnight project and guide)

I have been saved, thank you jesus.

The usual hot cleanse. This time not so punishing and self inflicting. Innocent and accepting, ready to open my consciousness and release this force I hold onto for uninvited negative comfort.
Reflecting and self medicated I put on my best smile.
Reflecting. Hours, days, years…my life. Laying in this bath soothed by something that triggers those defective growths that have been removed but are deep rooted within my soul. Making me who it is I am today, whatever that is. It is growing, just like my energy.
I know I never cared and I know I never loved you.
For reasons unknown the dark influence that weighs me down tells me that this had to be done. One can not find light underground…until they find a window. Then they have a choice. To escape.
As comforting as the dark is to me it is so estranged and will never shut up.
I just want to sink. Fall into the depths of this container.
Broken.
Accepted and limp.
My bust no longer howls. I can sleep. For the first time, I sleep.
Bored and normal.
I pour my wine into my filth.
I see a glimpse of what could have been.
It flows like blood. A ribbon around my thighs. A beautiful dream.
So accepted and now forgotten.

Blank canvas awaits me…No need to finish the unfinished I am ready for the new.

 

Calaveras

Reblogged from littlefurrycats:

Five blossoming and candied Calaveras.
Under an old Yew tree.
For that was where you were buried.
And where I love to be.
Sugary smiles that taste ever so sweet.
A humble feast to share.
Stories woven and laughs set free.
As we remember our life so fair.

Some fun I found and want to share (+remember).