Target Acquired

Master,

You sensed my vulnerabilities,

zeroing in on me with your dominating radar.

Saying all the right words,

pushing all the right buttons,

pushing me under your table

and down to your feet.

You put your collar on me,

secured me to you with your leash,

not letting me go away for my own good,

keeping me at just the right length

short enough to tug on me

to alert me to your needs

yet far enough away

to not have you in my view

to not see you clear enough

to save me from your lies.

Lies that had a price

to be paid, of course, by me

the cost of twisted pain you gave

your “gift of love” to me,

my love you supposedly “absorbed”

had no more effect upon you

than the trash you kick out of your way

just useless stuff, that once served a pupose

for you, now empty of all things you might desire,

not any better than your last,

not good enough for your future,

not good enough for your love,

only good for one thing.

You gave me nothing

in return, for all that I gave you.

Not even the kind of pain I yearn for

only the kind that lasts forever,

without any reward,

the “empty” pain, the kind that destroy

a heart.

Leaving it beating, but not alive,

at all.

Dead inside,

and forever reminded

when the bills come due each month

of how long I’ll have to pay,

and How Long is Too Long

anyway?

A real Master, takes care of his prey.

A good Master, keeps well, his good slaves.

A powerful Master, rules his slave’s heart,

and his slave lives in his, as well.

And a good slave am I,

one a grand Master would appreciate,

and nurture,

to fit him like his key

to his door of his castle,

and I will know him by these things.

He will be my Other.

You, could not possibly have been him.

For you have none of these signs of

a Great Master, at all.

But, after all, how good could a Master be,

anyway, if he is a slave himself

some substance owns him

becomes his Master

so much so

he not only lost his slave,

but himself,

and his

self respect

too.

This slave,

deserves

a better Master,

than

you.

I looked into

you digital eyes,

without remembering

that anything digital

is not real.

Analog, is real

and that, is what you

saw in me.

The analog, that had been there,

forever.

And you knew it

you used it

you crushed it

with your digital heart

using your digital fingers

to type digital words

that are as meaningless

as the machines that produce them.

A machine has no heart,

no soul,  no humanity.

A machine, is a machine

and so, are you.

In your digital eyes now

I see nothing,

finding that it was only

my natural, ever-deepening desire

to submit, to obey, to be praised

for being such a delighting slave,

who finds ecstacy

through a Master’s demands,

and through his punishments

when I fail him

or dissappoint him

allowing my body to be used

as a vessel for his rage

his twisted desires

his need to control

his need to inflict pain

his need to be superior

his need to degrade

his need to belittle

his need to depreciate

his need to prove

that he is indeed, a Master.

But you, have proved yourself

to be a master of nothing,

but running your con,

so well I could not see it coming,

until you said “you’re a gem”.

That is a statement, that only a con-artist makes.

It is so hollow, so transparant, you really should know

that it’s not a good line to use to get over

to get what you really want.

I saw it then, at that very moment I knew

but decieved myself by ignoring the screams

coming from inside my head

and inside my heart.

What a “gem” you have lost, though.

I am not the only one, to have lost a great deal,

have I?

I may be a slave, but I do know my own value.

The only things you find value in

are superficial things.

Consumables.

And how much passion,

do you truely find

in that?

A momentary rush.

Then,

it’s

gone.

And there you are,

alone again.

Perhaps even kicking

yourself for not seeing

the treasure you might

have had

in

me.