Oddly enough, I am finding this song VERY appropriate. Mostly because I am COMPLETELY smashed. Yes. It's 11:00 am and I am drunk out of my f'ing MIND.

Watched a made-for-TV movie about sorority sisters, about belonging, and murder, and covering up, and the hell you go through. Such hell.

Such hell.

Lust, though. Lust is building even as I find myself hating memories, hating the images of the past that rise up. Drink again. Swallow. Choke down the bitter liquid until you can't remember anything but how it feels to be alive and ok.

Damn
I wish I was your lover
I'll rock you till the daylight comes
Make sure you are smiling and warm
I am everything
Tonight I'll be your mother
I will
Do such things to ease your pain
Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed

Arousal. Lust. Desire. The memory of a body, half-seen curves and gods, but I want to touch... drunk, tipsy, remembering her form and her voice and all the things that make me want to scream and cry and beg to have that moment back, to redo it...

...to do it right...

Damn, I wish...

...do I?

...love is just a bloodsport...

Music. I often use lyrics to solidify my emotions, condensing them into a few simple lines of verse that I wish I'd written. Music envy - much like penis envy only MUCH much easier to satisfy, for me at least. My own lyrics flooding my head briefly.

drowning
I'm drowning and you're swimming by
only time for me to say goodbye
push me under
just don't let me die
not like this
falling
I'm falling and you hold the rope
somehow I believe you're my last hope
see me crying
as I strain and grope
and I miss...

"Drowning" by Jax Raven. *amused*

And still... bloodsport.

Using a slave, using MY slave, not because he needs it (though he does) and not because he wants it (though he does) but because it pleases me. It FEEDS me.

Gods, how do you explain this without sounding mad?

I feed off of my boys. Their submission, their pain, their arousal, their pleasure, their fear and misery and doubt and hunger and desire and... GODS... it's... feeding.

It is.

There is nothing like it.

I can walk into a club full of people and find the one whose heart is breaking.

I can walk into a room and find the spot to sit where I can watch the ONE person who isn't telling anyone everything. Who is hurting.

I can find them because they taste good.

Tipsy... no. Fuck that. DRUNK. Raging, rolling, rollicking drunk, and my body is pulsing with a need I can't deny.

"Nancy Boy"... thank you, Alex, for this song. Headbanging, maybe. Fucking, definitely. And I am wondering how YOU would taste.

Wondering.

Gods, I'm drunk.

...and it all breaks down
first rehearsal...

Missing stability. Tonight. Soon.

Gonna have a Caleb.

Can't be soon enough, not soon enough to quench the fires that are burning me up inside, I'm drowning in this hunger and I can barely speak for it...

Orchestral version of "house of the rising sun" and my typing so very sucks right now. I'm having to add corrections every few words, backspacing and backlogging and unable to find the words I need.

Raven is back. Sane, and herself, which are really two COMPLETELY opposite things, as we all know. But she's back, her words blurring into mine into a gateway leading me ever further down. She's always been a reliable guide.

Waiting... on this version of this song the music builds slow, quiet, for so long, and then a flood of hunger that nearly blows my mind, such a RUSH...

...I'm going to be singing soon, I know it. Damn.

See, contrary to a few peoples' belief, I really honestly CANNOT SING. I'm abysmal at it. Which, sadly, doesn't stop me in the slightest.

Odd, this feeling. I can touch myself, and feel it... but it's so distant. So empty. Silent. Quiet. ...dead...

...this is me.

This is me, tangled in words and alcohol and music, aching, waiting for Torian to log back online and wondering in my few brief flashes of sanity and sobriety if maybe this will be the time I go over the edge.

I almost hope so.

Almost.

...I'm giving in...