Rendezvous in Stockholm
27th July 2007
Rip every shred of anything from me and hogtie me to your whims. Force me to kneel, to beg, to whisper, to squeal with sudden sick urges and self-hate. Thrust me blindfolded into the folds of your mind and let me languish with only your darkest nightmares for nourishment for days endless weeks turning to years and tears closing in around us in the dark, sweat-soaked air of our secret hideout.
Hate and resent me desperately for enabling the monster to materialise. Take your every aggression out on me in soft, languid caressing strokes of pain, fear, shame and guilt. Slam me down on the cold, wet concrete floor with the antipathy and anger you’ve buried deep your whole life, until now reserved only for yourself and the ghosts of your broken childhood. Allow it to come crashing through and batter break me down and shed more tears. Force-feed me your love in anguish and sorrow and distaste while you fuck me, invade me, lacerate my skin, tear me open and flesh me out.
Reach in to grab fistfuls of my insides, shred to a fine dust and inhale them with all your senses. And in the same breath spit me back out and trample me beneath your boot, levitating me higher and higher, higher still. Show me your unforgivable evil, unkind, cold-hearted instinctual nature and finally allow me to nibble on it tenderly between sobs. Neglect me for hours but always return to envelop me with full maddening force forever. Because forever at breakneck speed isn’t long at all.
27th July 2007 at 8:32 pm
Beautiful picture, heartbreaking prose…
This is my last relationship, but far more eloquent.
27th July 2007 at 9:33 pm
K, welcome and thanks. I can’t take credit for the pictures, however. In fact, I’ve never been to Stockholm. That could be Budapest for all I know. Lovely all the same.
28th July 2007 at 8:08 am
Whoa. I like this piece and appreciate the deep, angled approach to expressing the always complex and often mind-fuckingly difficult aspects of life and relationships. Most of my literary heroes write some pretty heavy shit. And yet from the emotions behind their words, and from what I’ve read about them, they were (to me) some of the healthiest (depending on how you want to define this), most curious, discerning, energetic, and weirdly “happy” (weak word, but you know what I mean) people to walk the planet. Feels to me like this piece comes from a similar source. To me, that’s a good thing (very conscious).
28th July 2007 at 10:56 am
Stockholm is not in Sweden anymore, is it?
28th July 2007 at 11:20 am
Anon: Welcome and umm… I’m blushing. Thanks for the kind words. I am open to your interpretation as I’d like to specialise in mind-fuckingly difficult life subjects. Indeed, what other kind are there?
AUW: Nothing escapes you, does it?
28th July 2007 at 11:32 am
“I’d like to specialise in mind-fuckingly difficult life subjects.”
Oh. Couldn’t you just write about kittens like every other blogger?
28th July 2007 at 11:43 am
AUW: Even my kitten is mind-fucked. Has to put up with me, doesn’t he?
Tell you what, I’ll start writing about him when you start writing about squirrels. Oh, wait… :)
28th July 2007 at 5:38 pm
Oh? Looks like you have a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome. I want to be kidnapped and beaten, too, you lucky dog.
28th July 2007 at 9:15 pm
Colin, welcome. And thank you (I think).
29th July 2007 at 1:46 am
I loved this. Very passionate, very full of life; after all, life is angst and misery and violence and lust, and all the depths and heights, right?
29th July 2007 at 1:55 am
I need a drink after reading this.
29th July 2007 at 2:38 am
Bohémienne: Thank you. I love that you get it, completely.
Venus: Yes, better make it a double.
29th July 2007 at 4:49 am
Sorry, I just couldn’t do any of this to you.
29th July 2007 at 7:37 am
Z - No, I wouldn’t expect that you could. (This is strictly sick bastard territory.)
29th July 2007 at 8:42 am
Your words don’t sound like noises when I read them. Instead, they move. Strong, sharp, urgent and passionate. An evocative picture as always.
29th July 2007 at 10:21 am
Camille, thank you. I’m glad I can reciprocate the pictures your own words evoke in my mind.