Archive-name: For.Love.of.Nightmares
From: birchall@pilot.njin.net (Shag)
Subject: Original Poem : "For Love of Nightmares"
Keywords: consensual rape fantasy, retrospective
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage,alt.sex.stories
I won't comment one way or the other on whether this poem is biographical,
autobiographical, or both. It doesn't rhyme, because I didn't feel like
making it rhyme this time.
"For Love of Nightmares" - Shag
Deep inside her, the past's demons,
Hidden by all her strong defenses,
Slowly begin to wake and stir,
Opening the old wounds of a time
Far past, when there was no choice.
They must be exorcised, but how,
By what exercise, what ceremony,
And then her thoughts fall
To her lover, so cautious, gentle,
He'd never do it... or would he?
The hate of the past translates,
To a devilish dream of fantasy
Replaying it surrounded by love
To somehow wash the sins away,
To somehow wash the pain away.
And so, the subject is broached,
True, he seems reluctant then,
But knows the demons well,
And wants to see them off
On their voyage back to Hell.
He's not much of a lover, really,
Just a gigolo in retirement,
He gives her everything she needs,
Though of course a gigolo's skills
Have very little to do with that.
And so, one night, they lie alone,
The hour grows late, and later,
Sharing the darkened solitude,
Sharing the heated silence,
And then, she decides it's time.
The two begin to make love,
But this time, just this tonight,
They're not lovers after all,
She's a tawdry, wanton hetaera,
And he's a rough, loveless violator.
He doesn't want, not at all
To call her a cheap slut,
But she begs him to do so,
And he does, as his eyes traverse
The treasure of her body
He doesn't want to beat her,
But she begs him to,
And the open-handed blows
Leave quick-fading marks
In all her most private places
He doesn't want to force her then,
But she begs him yet again,
And the gentleness gives way,
Replaced by determination,
Replaced in turn by detachment.
Mounted like a beast, she bucks
Against the repeated thrusts,
Spurred on by the touches and blows,
Driven toward an unknown end
By the pleasure mingled with pain
An exercise to exorcise her demons,
Surely the incessant pounding
Will drive them back to the fiery pit,
Surely the violent impaling
Will run them through to their death.
And then, just when she thinks
That she can take no more of pain,
The border is suddenly reached,
Between the most extreme of pains
And the most extreme of pleasures
She crosses the line, hardly conscious,
And he feels her collapse beneath him
Moaning quietly as she falls
Afraid for her well-being, he pauses,
Uncertain in his barbaric course.
The pause lengthens to a stop,
He withdraws, and lays beside her,
Holding her gently, once again,
The violator has gone, and now
The lover has returned.
Their love now tainted, the two
Return to their daily course,
Unaware that tainted love will fail
Unaware that he will pay his soul,
Go to meet the demons in their home.
And so, the demons of the past
May be given some decency,
By giving them their time to spend
In an alien atmosphere of consent,
And exorcised perhaps they'll be.
But they go through life apart,
She never forgets the one who loved
Enough to fulfill her best nightmare
He never forgets the one who hurt
Enough to beg him for such cruelty.
Freedom belongs to only those without video screens for eyes and mouth.
- Queensryche
Last modified (10/09/96 12:14:29) by
Eli-the-Bearded.
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