Tag: Therapy

The monsters
which stand between me
and true understanding
in this world of my own making;
unintentional as they may be
they must still die to set me free.

My mind and body
are split into fragments
which collectively form
the state of my being.

The Man I am proud I am becoming,
(I’ve worked very hard to become that man),
is excited and happy
that someone he loves
will have this opportunity
to explore and experience
that divine feeling of mutual lust
and reciprocal desire,
because I know
that he’s beautiful beyond reason,
beyond any other lover
that I have ever known.

I want him to know this.
I want him to embrace this
and to accept who he truly is.
I want him to know
and feel joy
and accomplishment.
I want him to achieve self-actualization.

A less developed part of me worries
that if he knows how much he is wanted
he may choose to leave me
for multiple partners.

But then again,
why would he do such a thing
when he already has someone
that allows him the embraces of others?

And if he can so easily be seduced from my side
is it worth denying him such knowledge?

I love him and could never hurt him in this way.

My inner child is small and hard
and terrified of what’s to come;
so excited that he may shit his pants,
wet himself, embarrass Daddy
with his hungry child erection,
which comes and goes repeatedly
based on levels of excitement and fear.

These images are too base
and too powerful to be ignored.

The man that I was before,
only years ago now,
is fearful of mistakes repeating themselves;
liars and cheaters and assholes
who could not give me
the attention that I needed
as they abandoned me
to explore all that I secretly desired.

But this time
it’s not a secret.

My Daddy knows
my shame and my lust.

Daddy knows what
hungers make me hard;
what makes my legs wobble
and my knees shake.

Daddy knows that
I call out for him
when I’m alone and stroking
on the edge of understanding,
on the brink of destruction
and the verge of orgasm.

Daddy knows how small I am,
how much Daddy’s cock
overshadows my tiny boyhood penis.

Daddy punishes me;
his words whispered lustfully
into my hungry bottom’s ears;
spanking me with diapers,
fucking my mind and my asshole;
bringing all that I am to the light
that I might solidify
and individuate
from all that has come before now.

Daddy knows that
I crave his calculatedly insincere cruelty
to make me cum;
to take me deeply into lustful spaces
beyond which I’ve yet dared to explore…
Impossible places that I
cannot reach without his loving embrace
of seemingly vicious incantations
which (spoken lovingly)
brutally summon the fragments within me;
bringing me to coalescence in this savage intensity,
this immensity of emotion and sensation
which I want / need to explore
in the paradoxically identical agency
from which his own exploritive needs are encountered;
that wellspring beneath his sense
of sensual worth and attraction
which unites us
in mutual self sexual exploration.

We’re two sides it would seem
of the same themed wet dream
that has haunted forever
and needs to be conquered.

Two shades of wanting
of the same kind of haunting
that has taunted forever:
we must slay our monsters.

And in the aftermath of our battles
be they excessive or successful failures
I know that I can hold him and tell him he is loved;
the way Daddy has told me that I am loved
after he punishes me
with unrestricted access to his most insightful lessons.

There are other, lesser fears of disease (given our precautions)
but they cannot prevent me from finding my truth
in the search for his own.

I love you. I love this.
I love that we can hold one another
as we walk through the terrifying war zones of our youth.

You are not alone.
I am not alone.

We are always together.

And I will love you forever.

Written by Jason Wright
January 18, 2018