virtually on the verge of vomiting, i push myself yet again, DJ's Sisma and Vekta driving me hard atop the range of the sliding decibel control, spinning their seduction, averting hallucination, inducing hallucination--for how else can i still be on this endlessly-moving carpet of vulcanized rubber passing under my beaten you-know-whats, at an indicated 8 miles-per-hour.
this, after having subjected myself to implements of torture painted an airy, aseptic white, corners coronated by stainless steel to prevent the corrosion-inducing sweat and tears shed during these BDSM sessions, while tied to ligatures of 1/4 inch 7 x 19 MIL-DTL-83420M cables terminated by 10-pound chunks of recycled slag, shaped ingot-like, potential energy tortuously converted to kinetic--energy is neither destroyed nor created (or is it mass?--although i feel as if my mass has been destroyed, mutilated...)
stop i do not. i keep control, avert nausea, meet and greet Limit, my old camarada, who like i has changed, become more inscrutable, prone to abrupt shifts in presence, mind, disposition.
"adios, tia. me voy, dejo tu abu-grhahib, tu house of pain, tu facility of torture, tu medieval dungeon, el discretely-mail-ordered-from-back-page-advert-in-almanac-format-photo-journal-of-alternative-sexually-arousing-practices-implement-of-pleasure-equipped suburban basement you habitate; i am in desperate need of a carbohydrate bolus."
as i make my way up the stairs, i turn, look down, weakly smile. i know, Limit knows, i will return. and i so wish she has her friend Enlightenment over for an as-as-always-too-brief visit.
virtva llyin the verg aknabac firnate ogiti hiyrbak if akterbauve
this, after having subjected myself to implements of torture painted an airy, aseptic white, corners coronated by stainless steel to prevent the corrosion-inducing sweat and tears shed during these BDSM sessions, while tied to ligatures of 1/4 inch 7 x 19 MIL-DTL-83420M cables terminated by 10-pound chunks of recycled slag, shaped ingot-like, potential energy tortuously converted to kinetic--energy is neither destroyed nor created (or is it mass?--although i feel as if my mass has been destroyed, mutilated...)
stop i do not. i keep control, avert nausea, meet and greet Limit, my old camarada, who like i has changed, become more inscrutable, prone to abrupt shifts in presence, mind, disposition.
"adios, tia. me voy, dejo tu abu-grhahib, tu house of pain, tu facility of torture, tu medieval dungeon, el discretely-mail-ordered-from-back-page-advert-in-almanac-format-photo-journal-of-alternative-sexually-arousing-practices-implement-of-pleasure-equipped suburban basement you habitate; i am in desperate need of a carbohydrate bolus."
as i make my way up the stairs, i turn, look down, weakly smile. i know, Limit knows, i will return. and i so wish she has her friend Enlightenment over for an as-as-always-too-brief visit.
