A guiding hand to lead you through all my expectations
the bonds tighten every time you you speak my name.
Ive watched the colour drain away in fear of the the next falling strike.
but still you kneel with pleading eyes. Obident to the last.
And I can say with pride you belong to me.
The subtle marks across your skin a sign that only we understand.
As I hold you tight
and kiss away your tears.
You wisper my name.
A fascination I’ve always had for London’s dark dank and doggy places
Fowl holes smelly clubs, grimy pubs.
Many of you might remember heading out to Tufnell Park
Drinking on the Northern Line.
Alighting for the Dome.
We were all underage drinking booze and popping pills.
The mosh pits the sped up fights.
Heads Banged to raw death metal.
Squat parties, Speed binges
Power cords mohawks,
Crazy Polish American Israeli Punks.
The Needles used the night before now an earing.
Then a little later.
Phone call No reply, Call back Address and directions finally given.
Departing from cosy Turnham Green.
Heading out to Crackydowns
Halfway there we’re coming up,
12 o'clock
The train stops.
Now We’re gurning And on a bus to some
Fucked up place where the Fuck is this Rave.
MDMA on arrival
time for love
Time to dance the day away.
Districtline comedowns
Afterglow Sundays
And suicide Tuesday.
Was it worth it
Fuck yes.
What's next
Men
Dressed in Leather PVC and gimp suits
O’my how sexually explicit.
The women know their place
Telletow heels on mens balls.
There’s no time for romance
In a dungeon as wells stocked as this.
Floggers whips suspension rigs
The manic laughter of those in space.
This is just a slice of London life seen through the eyes
Of a man who has become desensitised
Random mental images flicker dimly, neon memories. The blow job at the bar, voyeuristically watching anal fisting, one half of a threesom. The scene has a dissacocated quality to it. The Alice effect. It's impossible to connect the images to the various settings they were experienced in. The scene is a place of exploration, a place to turn fantasy into something tangible something felt, a real experience. For some subspace becomes an addiction, for others the Alter Ego takes over creating monsters. Scenes with in scenes and I'd go as far as to say small cults murge get tangled in nets of politics and die of in melodrama. We swim, to the sound of floggers, base lines, various tones of pleasure and pain. Amongst Sharks. I was told a chinese whisper, a story of a Master who raped his Slaves best friend, she was so devoted to him she refused to challenge him or leave. The environment creates an atmosphere of watery silence. A silence that should be broken. Abuse needs to be fished out and left on the bank to rot.