Fins, Feet, and Wings

Where the hook went in. Blade Right.

There is despair in not being enough. To being unformed or imperfect is fearsome, and it never goes away (though I know the shameful secret is that we all feel this way).

What is the thing I can do which gives me control for a moment?

I am writing now in service to my wild heart — impulses to destroy everything in my path, to sob a trillion tears, to wrestle ’till my death — these feelings overtaken by a simple movement of my fingers on this sticky imperfect plastic keyboard. I am writing from my center to you, who I imagine is also searching… It is the simplest thing I know how to do, so typing is the thing I choose.

I should go out and find a flower. Take a moment and fill my lungs with its perfume. Become the plant, and feed her with my exhale too. Symbiotically balancing, creating calm, and now.

Watch the baby of any creature discover a new thing — the way they react in fear or surprise, smile with trust, calm from food, or just simply take it in all around… At one time every one of us was so small and empty.

I am a mer-creature hooked from the primordial ocean, a rocky shore off of the frigid coast of Maine. I was caught some few decades ago and reeled in. Taken from my home and wiped clean. I learned to play all the games people play, but I long impossibly for the home I’ve forgotten. My bones howl and I can not quiet them, only wait their sounding out. I bloodlust the feeling of frigid ice water cutting the pain in my chest, slowly overtaking through pins and needles until a slightly warm sense of coming hypothermia creeps in, and then nothing… Salt and waves more real than a cradle, is what I crave.

Stories make us who we are.

Who am I? Who do I get to be? If I fail, will I be cast away? Foam on the sea? Doomed to wander, searching endlessly for those who, also erased, somehow recognize me — or is it finding the impossibles who will simply let me be that is my saving strategy? I may not fit any mold, but I hold my pieces together as best I can. Stitched up with fishing line, clear as the water and strong tether against my earthly weight…

Hung on hooks I know who I am.

A meatsack.

Bones and muscles and guts heavy from gravity, trapped inside a stretching skin stubborn enough to hold it all in. I was that mer-creature who traded my tail for legs. Bloody shoes. Due to desire. And today I ask for the pain of wings.

After soaring what next will I withstand, trading comfort for endorphins and sharp unease, all because I wish to truly be?

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

Growing

Picture by Mileamne

Picture by Mileamne

They say the pain of birthing is…
…still so many children have siblings.
“Relationships are hard” the back of my brain whines
While I gasp for air in a corner
Beside myself
Barely recognizable
A ball of distrust and sharp edges stabbing inward too

Fear.  Grief.  Feral Anger.  Pain.
These places are taken at the table
Crowding out space set for perspective and care
Past and present intertwine
Here and now
A ghoulish nightmare
Mismatched memories
And I don’t know who I’m talking to anymore

The hours roll by
An evening, a week, a year; my life seems almost through
Tears fall
Bark of a pained heart
Howling cry long in the night
And we fail one another
Love one another
Push each other
Sew it back together

Maybe stronger
But when memories recall too fast
We fall again in blame
When memories fade too fast
We trip up, a clumsy face plant on the floor
I look for grace
Lovers learning
Creative breath
Opening by degree
Delving deep to fix the cracks
A race against shatter

We will fall again
In love, in turmoil, into Fear, Grief, Feral Anger, and Pain
We’ll see them coming to the door
We’ll take place settings away
Calm the monsters
Hold onto a faint almost imperceptible vital knowing
That everything will be alright

Nothing incredible was ever created without an understanding of survival
Without a certain measure of surpassable pain.

To Breath and Being,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and consider supporting me, or just click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

###

Be an ABCs contributor:  Do you have a story or perspective to share about kink or would you like to promote a kinky event?  Email Karin directly at: Karin @ ABCsOfKink . com or fill out the as-anonymous-as-you-want-it-to-be feedback form below and you could see your writing published as a part of Wednesday’s “Perspectives on Kink: Conversations with the Community” blog on this site.  Don’t know what to write about?  Consider answering some of the Survey Questions I posted recently.  Happy writing, and thanks!

Decoupage

I want you to cut me.  Not with a big heavy broad chef’s knife, or the dagger looking so beautiful and mean, but the small thin, delicate one.  The one that separates clouds from the sky, kittens from their window perches, and little girls holding flowers from the meadow behind,  I want the knife that can free anything at all from it’s steadily monotonizing environment, allowing new context in our rearrangement.

478782_3390831404675_1086317723_3445050_594474111_o.jpg

Photo by David Aquilina

If you trace lines along the sides of my body that will fit perfectly in a cage, I am yours forever skulking around between these bars.  Should you shape me into a flying monkey’s form, I’ll fetch your broom and wait silent for your next move.  If I’m to be a battleground, I wait for soldiers to nestle themselves into my curves at night and dream of safety blanketed by my scent.  And if I am me, walking on the ocean’s surface toward the dawn, I’ll feel your hands and warm breath at my back.

I want you to cut me.  Shape me into pieces and scenes that are surprising and delight.  I’ll be your monster, your favorite shirt, your washer woman, your mechanic, your blanket, your paper, and your pet.

To Breath and Being,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and consider supporting me, or just click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

###

Be an ABCs contributor:  Have a story or perspective to share about kink or want to promote a kinky event?  Email Karin directly at: Karin@ABCsOfKink.com or fill out the as-anonymous-as-you-want-it-to-be feedback form below and you could see your writing published as a part of Wednesday’s “Perspectives on Kink: Conversations with the Community” blog on this site.  Don’t know what to write about?  Consider answering some of the Survey Questions I posted recently.  Happy writing, and thanks!

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