A brief note.

A man takes on many wards and charges in His lifetime, to His honor, as are His duty; assigned or assumed…

  …employees in work, siblings, friends, dependents, His wife, children etc.

  These are all in some way His subordinates, His charges.  They are not lesser than Him, but merely all agents tied to Him and He to them, by responsibility or social requirement.

A man might also take unto himself a faithful entity, a voluntary counterpart, an equal to His mind and spirit.. 

 …outside the realm of the conventional figures, with whom to share his time, a companion in attentions and affections, a gentle soul to give him solace, peace, and pleasure; mentally, physically, but most of all spiritually.

   He gives of himself freely to them, with no expectation or ought to them for more than their simple attentions and affections, reflecting His own.

           In short, as a man will look after a pet.

   This figure varies from man to man;

  for some, a hobby or career… 

    some a dog or cat or a few birds…

      some cars or cards or drinks or horses….

        still other men find comfort in one-off sexual encounters…

But, there are a select few that would choose a willing young lady as his protégée.

   He feels gladdened in Her joys and saddened by Her sorrows. 

   When She warms his bed His body shakes with release.

   When She engages His thoughts His mind races with inspiration.

  From all that remains within him, after life and its duties have claimed their right, and He has gladly obliged and satisfied all who would call on his honor, then does He delight to seek the one on whom He lavishes His affection and pleasure.

  She knows His mind and His body, She bears a deep affection for Him and His happiness, and He rewards Her diligent, loving companionship with all the treasures and riches His mind and soul lay name to.

  She is a freewoman, not bound as wife or concubine by legality or duty; rather She gives charitably of all she finds Him worthy to benefit from, in return for His strength, His care…

   He protects Her and shields Her, comforts Her, consoles Her, inspires and encourages Her, shares His wisdom and knowledge with Her, and calls Her to be His own, as She calls herself…

…with no sense of possession , save that with which She blesses Him.

Great men desire great women.

Every eye that looks upon a great man peers into the eyes of the father and brother within Him…

…into the heart of the woman he has taken to his side; his wife…

 …and each sees the glorious passion of the Mistress who sets His old soul aflame.  

   I am one of such men, milady.

    I crave a toy, a sweet, an equal, a Pet…

O Dear Sweet Sister, if you were so inclined to commend yourself to this, your grateful keeper, you would grace this Old Man with the beauty of your soul, and I would have love for you abounding, as only my Pet would know.

    There are men in those machines, men with families, identities, thinking their own thoughts, as they hover a quarter mile off the ground , absorbed in their own day’s line of work.

    He had a look in his eyes that told them that he knew he had the power to crush them or cradle them, but that he knew they were someone, from somewhere, and he would choose the latter until another day warranted further.

alittlepieceofinsane:

This isn’t some tan girl covered in makeup with perfectly straight hair and a perfect smile. This is a girl with Pfeiffer Syndrome, who has had bangs her whole life to hide her forehead and struggles everyday to be okay with looking this way. She’s had several surgeries and will have a couple more. she can’t wear makeup much, her eyes are sensitive. Her jaw is misaligned. Her forehead is too thick and has to be shaven down. Her cheekdowns have to be moved forward by surgery. when she was four she had something called a ‘halo’ which was a metal circle screwed into her skull and jaw.

though she fought through it medically, she struggles everyday with the emotional sideeffects. she doesn’t look like her family or her friends. she may never look normal. she has depression and eating issues because of what she has had to accept about herself. she has done awful things to be pretty.

nobody ever sees her without makeup or without bangs.

until now.

She, is me.

and if I make your blog ugly, than don’t reblog this. but if you can be one of the few people in my life who I know are fully comfortable with it, than reblog this so people know.

you are beautiful. even if you don’t realize it, you are. everyone is,

I’ve been here before, seen this precise moment suspended in time with my own eyes.  The sights, the sounds, the colors, the spark… This glimpse of worlds within worlds does not escape my attention, and I know now as never before that I will find me on the other side staring right back in my eternal I.

This husk is simply the container for all the items and attributes necessary for existence.

To ensure success in everything you do with this shell, just pretend it’s someone else’s and you’ve been charged with keeping it safe.

Pretend it belongs to the guy that holds the key to your next shell, and he’s a stickler with no room for error.

I mean it, pretend you have to return this pile of bones and meat that thinks and feels, and you have to account for every transaction, in and out.

Wrap your head around the concept that this vessel will NOT support itself without orders, and that whether active or passive, this thing takes ALL orders from the brain.

This puts me in a position where I must assemble a team, identify my resources, and write up a strategy plan for each maneuver.

Every endeavor, from putting feet on the floor to facing down the edge of the Universe, needs a captain, a crew, and a heading to succeed.

I am the captain, this is my vessel.  

My vessel is young, and strong, and fast, but only as mighty as the will within it…

My crew is only as strong as my weakest point.  

My heading is as visible as the air in front of my face, but only if I’m truly seeking it.

I forget, often, that if I don’t keep both hands firmly on the wheel, and my destination resolutely in focus, that a crash WILL OCCUR.  

No matter what.  

No one gets out of here alive.

Getting out of here perhaps a little happier and a bit wiser is pretty accurately what I’m going for…

Each try, each pass, coming closer to the brass ring…

As soon as I look away, as soon as I turn to share my experiences with the men and women beside me, if I’m not ever-vigilant, that’s when the demons slip free  and foul up the works.

Indelible ink, unforgettable words.

Never feed a woman lies, never sell a man his soul, never clothe the poets in frail words.

The mind it hums, the thoughts they swarm… The raw inspiration flowing from the thought, to the mind, to the brain, to the hands, to the eyes and ears of every future Me.

No rhyme nor reason, merely the unabashed and uninhibited source material, directly from the deep reaches and the daily trifles, juxtaposed elegantly across a swath of existence bred for feelings…

A bleeding stab-wound in the dank and rotten infection of complacency, dripping the now treacherous concoction of past mistakes and present anguish, a poison, produced by the very soul it intends to nurture.

A passion, a fire alive but for its own sake.  Burning, twisting, consuming fire, blue-white heat of unsatisfied dreams and unfulfilled wishes, setting ablaze the dry, dead wood on top and charring the tips of the saplings, challenging them, testing the very will to exist of even the smallest buds, leaving a taller, stronger tree in its wake.

I am an addict. Let that sink in, an addict. There is an experience so powerful that I simply can not live my life without it. I am speaking, and with a mind trembling from the sound, about those rare moments when the magic happens.

We all know them, we all have them… but I confess that I am a ruined and broken man without them.

Those moments in life where I find I’m so unbearably happy, that I feel at that moment I can do nothing but stare into the sun, and am far too awestruck to do anything but smile, sit back, and follow the rush to a better me.

If you’re reading this, I love you ♥

Stage One:

Balance productivity;  evaluate and minimize losses, purchase potential.

Stage Two:

Readjust vision; shift faculty focus, delegate assets to productive departments.

Stage Three:

Launch Program; draft a proactive profit reclamation initiative.

Record elapsed time from start of Stage One to terminal success.

(Note: If you lose count, begin Stage One again.)

[He] was fascinated by the seductiveness of images.

Ordinarily, you see a picture of something and you believe in it, you are seduced by it; you take its honesty for granted.

But [he] knew that representations of things can lie.

These images of men aren’t men, just pictures of them, so they don’t have to follow any rules.

This painting is fun, but it also makes us aware of the falsity of representation.

I want to become intimate with a woman that will allow me to occasionally paint her body with my sins…

I Am the weather… I Am the constant evolution of elements in suspension… unruly, though methodical as I plot a course across the terraform.  Making strides for the perpetual motion of energy itself, crossing sea and space, churning and changing on the slow, mad rush for the fierce storm and spring rain.

It weighs so heavily on my mind when We intentionally degrade one of Our own for the instant, easy, narcotic fix of superiority…

Isn’t the point of it all that We all exist here?  That We all share experiences and feelings, that We all have to suffer the restrictions and handicaps of this body and this mind; this earth and this existence.

I see so many choosing to take what is theirs and deny the rest of Us what is Ours.

Share with me, my friends, for when you give to me, I have little recourse but to give to you in return.  Remember this, and remember me.