How potent must be this wine,
undiscovered and untouched,
eternally fermented
in the lonely sorrows of infinite longing.
How delirious must be its intoxication,
flooding your mind and drowning every desire;
as I swim deep into its ocean of darkness,
to that lost cemetery
where you buried all this desolate pain;
I soak it all up within my porous heart,
and let you squeeze it till the last drop,
slowly out of my infatuate soul.
How magnificent would it be
to drink from this forbidden chalice,
polished to glisten,
by an endless onslaught
of hate and regret;
as you question the very notion of love,
and discover it once again,
in my unkempt garden of dreams;
I dare you, to take a sip.
Banalities of Desi Kink Scene
I seriously don't comprehend the Delhi BDSM scene. What is this stringent adherence to the traditionally normative Dom/Sub roles? As if BDSM is only equivalent to the dynamics between masters and slaves alone. I'm sorry but I don't identify as a sub or a slave. The idea of simply submitting your autonomy for no random reason but that you're just simply expected to; is fucking boring to me. Also, submitting your identity to that of a "slave" blurs the line between dominance and degradation (at least going by Delhi male mentality). I don't find humilation erotic and I'm clear about that. And if a dom crosses that line, I like to have some agency to protest it. That's why I identify as a 'Brat' which is one of the many varied roles in masochism.
Write a comment ...