bareback and riding a man with black horns

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Going nowhere. You look right through me. I hugged him with both legs. Death was breathing. Don’t say goodbye. Don’t do this to me, pretend it isn’t happening. Smile. Eyes that see, speak to me. The silence taking words of gray, into this embrace. Death sucked my heart and the wild blood rose. Inhale, my neck to his teeth. A hungry bite. Fangs. Don’t let go. But you look through me, body like a board. Stiff and smoky. This mad world, you want my stories. I have nothing left to give but a warning. Turn back before it’s too late. Blood dripping onto my cold feet. But it’s him, my alibi. The constant dull hurt of being nobody. Going nowhere. Deep in my body bag calling from the drain of yesterday. It was never warm, not even the summers. Black horned man, shoulders curling like smoke. Rising from your dark invisible head. Let me go, I can’t stay here. I never said goodbye. And my words go unnoticed as I watch out my window. For you coming back, through the howling child wind. The ghosts always want me, touching me in places unseen. For a child, this isn’t safety, it’s danger. Hot sexy danger. No man wants anything old. No woman wants any baby who doesn’t lust for her breasts. I was there, I know what animals are. This is nowhere and God wants in. To me. So I sit alone here, now in the shadows. Tears for an empty world that never gets held. The window, only a memory. My mother dog dead. My virginity numbed. He was the only light I knew, don’t you understand where the wind blows. How low I’ll go looking for an excuse to be real. I can’t think about now, it’s all just about then. Where I’ve gone to avoid this goodbye. I keep thinking I’ve found you, new. Someone else. Do you love me. I know you don’t, look right through. Me. This lonely window. Waiting for him while the ghosts howl through me, inside the loss of me. They say she’s just mysterious. I have filled her or am filled with secrets that cannot be understood. Incest that is more about legacy than rape. Mother dog devours the child dog. Father dog roams for more scent. Blood scent, legacy. Where the demons go feels like somewhere. Howling wolves. It’s this childhood dog that I held, while she licked me to death. While my room sparkles with horny ghosts. While naked thoughts raced through a head much too small. Take back the confusion. My dolls want inside. Another taker, my lonely record plays, “pop goes the weasel.” Because I do know what that means. And these legs bound with chains drag down the hallway. For me, always for me. She’s getting thin. Put something inside her. And so I remember the opal he gave me. Inside of a small golden heart. My mother told me it was filled with fire. So I wore it, he loved me. When he was drunk he said so. And she left me, mounted me. Undressed me with her eyes. Children. Soft scared child. I am unalone. Ghosts fill her eyes, demons go down on her while I watch. Orgasm of sin. The police never came. I was the best and the brightest of the moonflowers. I had honey colored hair and my eyes were big like an unopened sky. Virgin. The wrath of not having enough love to give. So I’ll destroy these voices. Hand held devices. People I never loved. That wanted me like breath. Death breathes while I groan beneath him crying, “make me the one. ” Take me, the one. Child burning in heat. Fever blooded. Every night they come to my window. First the owl, then all the rest. Wanting in. “I’m not a whore!” I screamed into my nightmare. I didn’t know what it meant, I just knew what I was. Suppose to give everyone. A bit of my soul, warmed by an unearthly desire. Bad nasty things in dark places. My parents fucked in front of me so I knew. What it is, what it takes. What I’m not. Pure. Virgin. You threw me away anyway. Left me vomiting on the curb. I wore rainbow socks and had no idea about penis envy. Or what rainbows really mean. Or why the man in the car was stroking the lump or why my mother said, “Go put a shirt on.” Or why I woke up in bed next to the man with black horns. How he knew my name when nobody else did. Why he didn’t look right through me, but from in me. He saw. “I know who you are. Stop hiding.” He said. “In a child’s body or another man’s eyes. Stop pretending I’m not here recording everything you do.” I had an idea, I knew sex was the goal. Definitely knew where the wind blows once he gets his voice in my head. “Little red girl. Everyone is coming this time. Hold still.” And when you’re dead, you’re done with this goddess. And so during this time, even now. I live amongst the dead. Voices that smother me in spirals of smoke. Wrapping their bodies inside and around me, getting fed by what I do. Which is exude. Exude, the blue light where shadows can finally live as rainbows. Stuffed animals can talk, mothers can die and forget I’m their sex slave. Fathers can kill someone else’s little dog and death can have me. Over and over again. Anytime, anywhere. Going nowhere. He looks right through me. Shining vacuous eyes that hold and contain me. I am not here. The wind is an orgasm of fear touching the tip of his erection. And I am ready, I am always ready to stop taking and open the portal to sin. Alive as I am in this diabolical illusion. I am the bringer of the answer to why. Why. Because you want it. That’s why. Because I am a big, hard rainbow. And everyone is hungry for the child who is love. I’m not sure why I tell you these things. It’s because of the window. Where you watch me, undressing the little, soft whore. And where innocence bleeds all over the sheets. Where the song never stops, not even now, “pop goes the weasel.” It scared my brother, the way I gyrated to the music as if I had no fear at all. Of what it would take to get him through that window and into my bed. I may have been little, but I wasn’t small. I am a survivor of fate. And it’s not against women or feminine swooning. It’s just that it’s the best trap of all. This animal box. This divine beauty I describe. The virgin bled for life itself, for the gods to give back what they took. So I trapped them and sucked them all, one by one into me. No one can resist a heavenly child. Bareback and riding a man with black horns. Sharada Devi

7 thoughts on “bareback and riding a man with black horns”

  1. Whew!!!! Now THAT is heavy. I feel so innocent when I read this…like I have not lived. It scared me to continue reading it…but I could not stop. It reminded me of a girl I was friends with when I was 12. Her parents were taken away from her because her father did things with her from a very early age. I asked my parents if she could live with us, because my home was safe and I wanted her to have my parents, too. My parents said “No…we do not want that kind of energy in our home.” I was very protected as a child. I was so fucking angry that they had NO compassion. SO much so, I went wild as a teenager. No one can protect me. FUCK you…I am going to do all the things I want to…I love fire and I love to get burned. Getting burned is painful…that pain is REAL. It leaves scars….and then I can tell the stories. At 16 I picked up a man who had just been released from jail. He put me on the back of his Harley. He had a vicious scar across his face and long curly brown hair. He reminds me of riding bareback….I think he had black horns, too.

    1. you’re so cute! creative and flowing like the moon mother! and I get heavy and I get light, like the full moon that rides on my back. Precious mother Light. We are all of this, the candle inside melting wax…tears that form new shapes into words called me.
      My story which changes like the moon in hey formless sky. No matter how. I call it Love, Who takes all. I give. ❤️

      1. Yes….we are ALL of this, LoveAngel….
        Your words are so deep and raw, I always reread them. I have to….to blow me off this planet!
        They always take me to a memory and bring me new worlds…or into the deepest darkest (lightest?) part of this planet we share…
        Butter flies…so close to the sun….that’s where ghee comes from…..don’t ya know?
        MOON Mama Love <3

        1. Exactly! So close we can’t see…
          the light or the wings that go deepest,
          closest to the light of our soul.
          Where we know…beyond even touching.
          The heart holding itself as the indescribable darkness of wombs.
          Butterfly. I’ll do whatever it takes
          to be with you. Be you through it all.
          Like storms that kill sunlight to water the
          earth, beyond explanation. Our mysterious coven…🖤🦋🌙

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