Fetish

I discovered a new fetish last night involving one of the men on stage. He was concentrating on producing an awesome sound and succeeding beyond all expectations. His eyebrows set, mouth slightly downturned a small indent forming at the corner of his lips, and thats where I got hooked. There right next to his dimple. My mind set for the rest of the night in a longing to have, to watch, for something close to an eternity.

Stars On A String

Subtly, slowly sinking into a world that is dark and thick with echoes of alone. I reach, finding nothing, not knowing what I expected or whether that was it. There is no weightless feeling. The sounds that may occur in this place do not reach my ears. My mind curls into a fetal position, my body may have followed suit, I cannot see it, I do not know. I will not say that I am lost. That would to some extent be a deep seated lie. Do not bleach. Dry without decay. There is not time for Parley. My vision adjusts to the hare, sitting no more that two metres away, senses manic, legs primed. I smile, he's off. And the void returns.

I Stand Accused Before The Rouge Of Being Hellbound

There are winners and losers and for too long I've been caught on the wrong side of that line.
I'm scared, my mind fermenting in something close to panic. There is a struggle going on for a mask of outward control. How long can I keep it up? How much time do I have before fear out does discipline?