Topic: Discipline

CardofTemperance

Date: 2008-07-24 19:29 EST
Am I still tough enough?
Am I taking too much?
Did I cross a line?

I need my role in this
Very clearly defined

I need your discipline
I need your help
I need your discipline
You know once I start I cannot help myself

And now it's starting up
Feels like I'm losing touch


I see you left a mark
Up and down my skin

I don't know where I end
And where you begin

I bought new clothes today. A new button up coat, leather riding pants, a pair of riding boots and a few cotton blouses that are a size or so up from what I would normally wear so that while dressed smart I'll also be more comfortable. And I do love the sensation of catching the breeze when bounding along, where the wind tunnels through the shirt and up my arms and down my back. I have missed sorely the calm that comes with a dash, one I haven't found elsewhere. Not with these pens, or by the sea. After years of equestrian and the regimented routine of it, I'd like to enjoy the fruits of hours of training as a hobby, as a means to relax. I imagine with all that is taking place I can find solace a friend in place of solitude. It is my prerogative.

She's a Bay, like a horse I had back home, "Maizey", but I have called this one Maze, for short.


I left a new bridle and harness at the foot of our bed for when Gaul returns. The straps are an exquisite mahogany coloured leather to compliment his black coach and engraved with some handsome patterns which is what caught my eye, and had me think of him. I wound them around my forearms to test their tightness; and taut and strong they were when I stretched them, I wanted to be sure of their quality. I hope it suits him well. I saw them there when at the saddlery and knew it was the thing to do. If he doesn't like it, that is quite okay, but it is the thought that should be valued, is it not? I was thinking that I must reinforce my gratefulness, somehow, and acted so with a heartfelt charity. I feel powerless to offer anything else that will be meaningful because I still feel that I am in his shadow, and kisses only say so much. So I use money to buy his trust, as I used to make deposit on his company. Driver, protector, and now my lover and friend.


"Trust me still"

He had asked. And she did. With all of her.

CardofTemperance

Date: 2008-07-25 02:10 EST
Since I was young I have imagined Time as a string. A length of thread that runs without end and no clear beginning, not a circle nor a hole, an ambiguous fabric of a sort by which we define ourselves.

I now know that Time is defined by us. That our breaths are precious, roads chosen and dreams wanted equate sublimely. That simplicity and complication are the labour. That decision is the child.

We do not have to live to its constrictions. Be the wayfarers of its infliction.

Time exists because We do.

CardofTemperance

Date: 2008-07-27 06:58 EST
I teach you of deaths desires
As I lead you in a fearful file to a precipice of fate

Time has been of the essence for so many years, that I feel an unrequited longing to understand my place out of its loop. Between the stesthescopic war of my Fathers heartbeat and Gaul's is where I rest my head these days and these nights. Where home must be. The junction of in between.

I attended the ball with some fatigue. I danced and I felt not properly myself and left early. I tried to attempt to blend in, to reimagine a place for the night, but I did not succeed.

The Inn today was not where I felt to be either. There was tension. I left with Maze earlier than I had anticipated. I crawled into bed and slept the rest of the night away. Only now I rise. Hungered and in pain. I have not fed since the other evening.

I buried that boy. I held his cheek in my hand watched his gaunt face loll back and forth. For a moment I started, thinking I might shake him into awakening. Regret and the need for nourishment compete inside me.

Tomorrow I will leave for a few days to visit Johnny. I think time away from here will be grand.

CardofTemperance

Date: 2008-07-30 01:16 EST
The ancient tradition that the world will be consumed in fire at the end of six thousand years is true, as I have heard from Hell.
For the cherub with his flaming sword is hereby commanded to leave his guard at the tree of life, and when he does, the whole creation will be consumed and appear infinite and holy whereas it now appears finite & corrupt.
This will come to pass by an improvement of sensual enjoyment.
But first the notion that man has a body distinct from his soul is to be expunged; this I shall do, by printing in the infernal method, by corrosives, which in Hell are salutary and medicinal, melting apparent surfaces away, and displaying the infinite which was hid.
If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite.
For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thro' narow chinks of his cavern.

Scripture and rosary beads do for mortal man what blood does for the Kind that is me. I have a shadow and a reflection and was yet told that I never had a soul, and if this is true, then what is my shadow and reflection but a trick, for both cannot be touched. I have been well fed by Johnny who says wisdom and blood both dry up and so eat while you can.

I am not waiting for judgement or for a holy hand to say that I am forgiven. I am outside of this thinking. Not beyond it, but disparate.

?You will be turned away. The hands of time already have given up on you?

So infinity is multiplied upon itself until I am tired of having no proof, to sign to leave, no footprints. The only gift I can give and the only remnant I can take, the only evidence of me is death and more of it, onwards and fierce so that my rotting story stinks up and finally I will be found out.

Or perhaps loneliness will take from me what emotional desolation already is.