I was flying

I dreamt that I was flying on a magic carpet. A nice thick one, with burgundy threads and of course laced with gold. Golden tassels flowing in the wind charmed like snakes. A carpet like the one Aladdin used to reach Jasmine’s lair and shit…but BIGGER! Big enough to cover the whole of my floor, from the living room to the back door. I wasn’t afraid- it was too big to drop me plus the force of the gravity pressed me down like thumbs into the carpet’s fiber. 100, 300, 600 thread counts and counting as it went up. Higher and higher it went till my lips, my entire face went numb then on fire. My skin felt peeled from the chill of the night. I felt a shrill building up inside. I couldn’t release the scream,Edward Munch, I was about to burst from the silence…suicide. That’s where shit got out of control, more and more feet I climbed but my guts they never left the floor. The moon was coming at me! Looking fuller than a workaholic’s agenda and blinding like Friday Night Lights. Even through closed lids I could see Orion’s belt on the left, Big dipping on the right. Your eyes, your eyes appeared in the flashes behind my lids all cinematic and shit, like constellations blinking at me – open, shut, open, longer shut…mores code for “it’s ok, let go”. There went the flood gates and tears streamed down my face, warm tears turned to ice-cubes, I was so close to fading out close to being a twinkle in your eye. But I let go, the carpet felt solid, cold cobblestones pressed against my back, solid, taking me back. Solid (due Black Power fist)
Pressing my back into her tendrils; the Woman who looks like a tree, taking me back pulling me into the forest of colors. I fell into greens and browns and she pulled me in with her curled branches, golden smooth like sand, wrapped around my legs, chest, hands. Around my legs, chest, hands turning me into a cocoon. I can’t breath. Like in my others pieces I can’t breath. Am I fixated with asphyxiation or just with words that have the letter x. Excuse me! I got wrapped up in my thoughts and nothing but, that’s what it is! I lose my self in the ideas and not focus on the feeling. Deep inside, the silence it’s there like a cocoon wrapped tight…let it expand like a lung.
I felt a thick drop flick against my cheek, then this sent crawled up my nose stinging my sinuses, I was dazed out of my sleep. Opening my eyes felt like peeling back scabs, as if I were awakening from my deepest sleep. It felt like forever for my eyes to adjust cause I blinked and blinked turned to my left saw black, turned to my right and still more black. I blinked, and blinked my eyes watered, the black turned shiny, my tears cleared and I saw my reflection in patent leather- a boot pressed to my neck, the heel Ahhhh! pinched my skin. I tried to straighten my neck out but the other boot dug into me. Ahhhhhh! My neck clamped between strong legs? It was…worth it. I knew to stay put, I stay put, won’t resist. I saw her face appear before me, “Mistress? How did you get here? I wondered not knowing exactly where here was.
She looked either proud or drunk or just drunk with pride. Hands on her hips she bent forward, snickered at me, standing over me with no panties and wet pussy. Or had she showered me again, she stood above me dripping all over my face, she snickered at me and I heard her say,
“Ground control to Major Tom”
“What?” I replied.
“Ground control to Major Tom” she repeated.
“Huh? What are you saying”
“I said, I like you on the ground, makes my clit hard with control,” she repeated shaking her head.
“I’m happy that I can please Mistress,” I said all raspy. My neck was clamped down as was the rest of my body. A bodice made from cotton clothesline around my neck, chest, hands, across my neck, chest, arms behind my back.
“ My pretty-boi-slave you really went deep this time huh?”
“Mistress anyone can suck a dick anyone can suck a pussy but Mistress blows my mind.”
“I like that. You were on some trip, and to think only you will know what that experience was like”
“I want to make Mistress happy, take all that she gives me.”
“Ah slave you do make me happy, so happy, and for that…”
Suddenly I catch whiff of that sent, kicked my sinuses like wasabi as her pussy got closer to my face, my face got wetter with her pussy-juice-drops her and from my sweat.
“For being such a good slave you get to give me an ass massage” she said as she plants her pussy on my shoulder and proceeded to unravel me.
I get a sudden pain on my sides, down my arms as my skin comes to back to live. That along with the familiar feeling of the onset of blue balls. It hurt, her getting my clit all engorged both from the ropes and her teasing cunt. But that’s why they call it discipline! Cause normally I’m all Pavlov’s Theory over fine wet pussy…but it’s not about me, and at the same time it is. I want to continue growing and being true with the things I wanna experience. And I wanna experience rubbing a woman’s ass, because that’s exactly what she wants me to do, or maybe she wants me to make her some lunch, for me to be her surface where she digs her knife, pink row after pink row on my skin, or write her row after row of prose and level after level of recording us through poetry. Yes, yes, yes and yes. I fail to see the negative in all this. She finished untying me, I floundered around with my numb limbs trying to get up to eagerly.
“You stay there,” she pushed me back down with a single finger to my forehead. “Let the rest of your body come to. I will go upstairs and get myself ready. Come up when you’re good and ready. (She grabbed my chin and looked straight into my eyes. “I need for your arms to be VERY awake” then walked away.
“(moaning in painful ecstasy) Yes Mistress”
“Slave!” she screamed from mid-stairs.
“Mistress?”
“I mean it. My ass really needs to get worked, you’ll be pressing, HARD!”
“Of course Mistress, I aim to please. I know how much Mistress enjoys getting her ass worked.”
No response just the fade away clacking of her heels. I heard her door slam shut. I laid there letting the doughiness of my muscles melt away loving the idea of digging into her doughiness. From sub-space to cloud 9 and to think that I had already been drifting in outer space.

It's B-D-S-M Bitch!

It’s B-D-S-M!
Bitch!
Pick a letter
Any letter
I chose M.
Mine is M
Mamamela mas
Mami mas!
Ohhhmmm
mastica mis mecos
munch on my meet curtains
mmmmMistress
muñequita
metete mas
M
M
M
Envuelveme mas
Mas-oquista.
Not a typical slave
but definitely a masochist
a kinky mother fucker
Shit-no-I-ain’t-vanilla!
Not into humiliation either.
You know, being put down?
Like a convertible I’ve had that covered for years
Now trying to ride topless
Which doesn’t make sense if I’m trying to get topped.
But to put it simpl\y Masochist
I like it rough
Get tough on my skin.
Go crazy on my back
But I gotta pull back,
realize I don’t
call the shots
You Mistress are the one
that plots the scene.

Leather, leather all the time
Mistress wants me in it.
I will
get all up in it
for her.
I will
her pretty-boi-slave.
Are you kidding!
She growls at me when
I wear it.
I wish one day
She’ll bite me hard
on my back,
really her back
her canvas
creating colors of
crimson and blues.
Mouth on canvas?
She’s a canvivore.
Not out for the blood
out for the love
of the game
The fame?
The love.
Out smarting
out creating
to inspire.

Wish I could cut the wire
don’t want to be a liar
don’t want to be an outlier
of this outlying community
Such a fucken apprentice!
Gonna get myself fired.
Just cut to the Chase
I’m talking banks
As in secure and insured.
trying to be secure with myself
do me, and feel assured…
reassured that I’m doing the right things.

I write things
cause I have a bad memory
I write things
down to share the memories
stir those memories
like I stir this alphabet soup
B-D-S-M
Bitch!
Pick a letter any letter.
M
M
M
Masters in Fine Arts
Mastering my heart
Mastering myself.
Don’t want to be famous.
Don’t need to be a billionaire
to know I’m fucken bad.
All I need is oceans of ideas
keep spoiling me
spilling over me
so I can spit ideas.
Ridding someone’s coattails
resting on my laurels
not part of my vocabulary,
not down with that lingo.

Everybody deserves a bomb orgasm
in their life.
That’s what I get-
Life.
From doing what I do.
You know what I do.
That thing that does that thing to you
makes you gag like a big dick.
My malicious delight.
Grant me immunity
from writer’s block
I’ll take that shot, or pill
I will sacrifice
pay the price- go for broke
for endless birth.
Don’t think that we pros don’t create
Life.

It’s B-D-S-M!
Bitch!
Pick a letter
any letter.
I chose
M.

your heart is my art

You know
you know
you a trip!
Hanging with you is visiting
the unfamiliar
not knowing where I’m going
not raising any expectations
and I don’t carry any baggage.
Each visit or ‘art play’ I rack up
air miles, nothing but smiles
as my CV grows
artistically and otherwise.
Don’t take offense but what we
are doing is bartering
each other’s skills to enhance our own.
You know my creative button is always on
you asking me to thread my words to your
installation pieces is nothing but a good reason
to write, so I write you Mistress
write the things that flow
to my head, those moments I feel in my heart.
Your heart, your heart
your heart is my art.
Don’t cry me a fucken river with that mental block shit
I only allow that to happen to my cock
I’d rather walk around all blue-balls
then black ball my art.
Your heart, your heart
your heart is my art.
The chemistry is there, careful with the sparks
our shit is toxic, not like bad
but sick…like when you get off a rollercoaster ride
or the way I feel when you ask me to
I get off
right.
I get off this writing.

I recently learned to embrace the term
“Cause I deserve it”.
But still I, I , I trip
I’m a tripper, I’m tripping over myself
trying to write about shit.
“my creative button is always turned on”
making, faking, stirring shit up
and our collabos keep me outta trouble,
But you say to me “you’re funny”
which = I’m cute
I wonder what “You’re trouble” = to
I’m no trouble at all
really easy, I am
just want you to be pleased
with me Mistress.
I know I’m a shit talker, forgive me
but do know I’m not full of shit
I’m as real as real art can get.

I can’t forget that she asked if you were my girl
my subject… the magical creature I paint
in my narratives, a unicorn of a woman
who knows how to make me trust
trust in love.
I spread my “social graffiti”
on your psyche
my words seep inside your head
like a Mistress gets inside my head
she, the first and last thought of my day
Could I think about her
more than I pray?
No way, that’s just the wrongest
thing to say…
Does it matter?
I can have faith in another.

I right you Mistress

She walks into the green room
Gives hugs all around then
like a sub who’s had enough collapses
in my arms.
My Mistress,
I can’t touch without permission
yet I took in her scent
pressed her into me,
her hot breaths erasing
anxiety, insecurity that stirred in me.
It was our night
our audience awaited
to see our play unfold
Yes leather, yes dominance, yes submission
and pain
she rummaged through her suitcase of accouterments
looking for that single tail, whip or knife to
tenderize my back with.
We’ve done this dance before
in private and on stage
underneath
the heat of the lights and collective silence of the audience
a deeper intimacy goes unnoticed.
Two pros engaged in creative exchange.
Yes play, but definitely procreating
without reservations
artistic instincts on high
as we set out to inspire
give you something to Tweet about.
She felt my vibe
she had to the way I did hers
the audience, numbed by our chemistry, did too.
Each come up to us one by one, smiles wider than
the black smile on Mistress’ face, eyes dilated
from witnessing artistic souls colliding on stage.

Mistresses come and go
bruises disappear
brandings fade
artistic exchange remains in my core.
She’s the first artist I’ve mixed intimacies with.
I am her first too,
first butch
first pretty boi, first papi
and want nothing more than to
make her smile and call me love
even if she puts me in a corner
silent, newbie voyeur watching
women’s bodies slither over
across each other,
turning the Moroccan
room upside down
to exchange kisses
caresses and finger fucks.
Lips on tits, asses and pussies
my lips dry from heavy breathing
as all I can do is watch and lust.
Shit I don’t give a fuck, put that plump ass on my head,
fuck her brains out on top of me,
ride that bitch hard, grind in my face
tie her to my waist as she sucks on my titties.
Ordered us to manhandle you, more fingers than you can count
crawling over you
till you put us to bed.

You are happy, pleased with the performance
pleased with our performance.
You remember, said so yourself…perfect
Like my ass in those leather pants
like your bondaged breasts
like your ass grinding on my cock
the one you grab so freely
making sure that like your
Slave, it’s at attention
for you.

You wanted me to write you a poem
so I right you Mistress
cause this will be the third…
Carve a cross
Across my chest
Or hit me
hit me back to heaven
through ceremonial play
I’ve discovered
the paint in the dark
the touch all that you eat
the blow beautiful notes side of you.
Ain’t no secret that I think you’re hot
I enjoyed just massaging you
unloosening the knots in your calves
warming up your ovaries,
knotting my fingers around your ass
pulling your toes
being spread over you
getting wetter
as imagined what it would feel
to fuck you
to burry my face in between your ass cheeks
and feast on it.
You said it best
“I love our relationship”
you inspire me
to be creative
to be nice
to be positive and loving
to be sensual and sexual

Enslave Me

Carve a cross

across my chest

I want you to be my Mistress.

Cross, cross,

crossed your heart and hoped to die

by my side my love

but all I FEEL is outside of your

gravitational force

a black whole

My Love.

My sister tells me que tengo a dolor en mi corazon

No, I tell her, I don’t love misery

She’s my muse

she looks soooo good in reds.

Besides

it’s a feeling just like the rest.

…across my chest

Pain is so different than misery-

Pain is like the cycle of water

pours down hard on you

evaporating with time.

Release

…it’s what it is

I want you to be my Mistress…

I need a coach in letting go.

If I already feel lost

what the fuck do I have to lose?

YOU

got my back Mistress.

Have it, have it

Take it

take it!

The more you give it

the more I take

-I can take it

but YOU will have it all.

Have the thumping

of your flogger

against my back

haunt me

days after days

Mistress

cause You have my back…

ass, legs, chest, sex.

Hit me with that sense of urgency

I’ll take it with that sense of Ohmmmm

Ohmmmm…. Ohmmmm

That sense of urgency?

Mindfulness

nothing else.

Who…is out there?

Who…cares?

All the cares

cares, I let go

And I’m there

hovering.

Your flogger

each hit

louder

in my ear

the breeze blows

out of me the wind goes

each thumping against my back

reverberates against my lungs.

Asphyxiation?

Look Ma, no hands.

I free fall into that subspace

Cross, cross my arms

across my chest.

Enjoy the free fall

hold it, hold it tight

make muscle memory.

Mindfulness-

nobody else

not even the stars that have

come out tonight

matter.

We’re all made out of matter.

Then why does shit, little shit matter?

Put me in that corner Mistress

put me in that space

There’s nothing but space

Subspace, subspace, subspace

Enslaved in the…

Enslaved by the…

subspace

created by your

delicious flogging

Mistress

Just let me continue to hypothesize

dramatize

hurt

As I get up again from every breakdown

Mistress

I promise to get up

Just let me remember you there

with me.

Paint a perfect picture

dance your brush against the shadows

Mistress

my Angel of Mercy

stroke on that canvas

stroke on me

enslave me

helpless and vulnerable

not hiding from you

no hiding behind an ego

I breath deeply in

ecstasy and agony

perfectly

filling up

the Black hole.

Mistress

you brought it to me

again…took my trust in your hands

Hurt me the way I like

to be.

Healing; circa 2007 but gotta keep it REAL-evant

I look at my wound

A fleshy calaca

Speckled with pink and red dots where hair follicles

Once existed.

It is my cortada with its rosada edges

an umbra of swollenness.

I look at my wound

Slimy como un gargajo

Me llena de asco

But why does my mouth water when I look at it?

I focus on the pain

Feel it throb up and down my arm

Makes my nails tingle

I feel the throb until my clit tingles.

I ignore my cut for days

Leave it exposed, victim to the elements

Vulnerable to infection.

“Huh I should put something on it. Some ointment or something.”

I research the web under branding and in the process

Learn about the highly infectious nature of burns.

One degree more and I could’ve damaged the nerve endings.

I cover my wound with a Band Aid

To silence the pain.

My thoughts get the best of me

I get chilled with loneliness, paralyzed with irrational fears

My thoughts run wild

ever present

bare

like bones

I reach for the Band Aid

And as I pull it off the stinging mixes in with another type of pain

The pulling of tiny hairs from their root “sssss, uh.”

Pain.

Pains

make me who I am, makes us who we are

Our bodies are screaming with pain

Physical, mental and emotional

Pain brings us together

It repels us

“Get away! You pained me.”

“get away you’re damaged goods.

Look at my wounds.

“Cover that shit up.”

I struggle not to be hostage to my pain

But it is my pain

Fuck you for giving it to me

Fuck you for not knowing it.

“Can you see my wound, it’s only residue?”

BdSM

(Soft yellow light center stage shining over bench. Bench is draped with a soft throw)

Claudia enters stage right. She is wearing a black tank top, white tight shorts (aka booty shorts) lays down on the bench. BdSM audio and video footage begin playing at the same time.

(Audio is playing and video footage of Nadine is projected on screen. Claudia begins simulating masturbation or actually doing it depending on how she is feeling that day. She occasionally looks up at the image of Nadine projected on the screen who also looks down on Claudia).

To my butch scholar

what is Butch aesthetic?

Is it when you reflect what you see before you into words?

If so then you have to talk about my big boobs.

If so then you have to talk about my tight ass

and how you salivate at the thought

of your fingers

sliding up and down your keyboard

as you recreate me, separate me, turn me upside down

and label me.

ME-your idea!

For you to relive every time you, she, I read.

Butch aesthetic?

that captured by your eyes

digested by your mind

and ends up on everyone's tongue.

If you reflect what you see before you into words,

please include the smells.

Is that hot wax or the smell of hot skin?

Shhh listen.

It’s your heart beating in MHz at the sound

of the whip against my back,

Um, my moans.

Butch mystique?

that surrounding my butch Papi

who stirs fag/boi/tranny fantasies

like you fucking me in your mind

as you witness

gender fucker

fucking

gender fucker

performing Butch identity against what is Queer/Butch.

Gender fuckers gender fucking,

performing Butch identity against what it means to be a chicana/butch

butch violating butch…

This is butch to me…

I feel the marks of my identity

I've been the butch top in this femme-butch matrix

where my desire IS draped in femme fatigues

where my identity manipulates my desires

where I’ve been somebody's bitch

Really, I just want to be ok with wanting to be manipulated by you.

Feeling your cock-hard Domness

makes my cock hard

femme or butch both can top me the same

as long as I get spanked the way I want to be spanked.

The personal is political

but the political is not always written on the skin

I know you see me as a cabron ladies…don't deny it

can you tell I like to fuck boys/bois?

Yes

I am

one of those butches that flew over the coo-coo's nest

the kind that fucks other butchas.

Go ahead and say it "where are all the real butches."

Act surprised that I'm really down with getting down butch on butch?

(Claudia lifts herself from the bench and straddles it, begins gyrating on it (i.e. she is riding the fuck outta that bench, sensually of course))

Hola Papi,

I was thinking about you, how the other day you stretched yourself out before me, slid your hand under your boxers and touched yourself. You scooped some of your juice up! I know cause I saw as you first smelled your scent then ate it.

As if nothing you slid your hand down there again. You face twisted this way and that with pleasure and lips parted with your moans. You got the legs twitching, chest heaving types of motions. I watched until your eyes rolled to the back of your head with satisfaction and closed with bliss.

Here I go again

Talking all that little boy fetish

I like short hair,

peach fuzzed, tittie tottin' cara de niño

The prettier the better

I'll say it

Son mi cochinita pibil

Carne tierna y picosa.

Won't I ever quit

Shed this skin

(Here Claudia thrusts harder)

Step into the post pony-tail dyke

Post-drag king

Post-andro

Post-trans

Post post

Post Pomo (Claudia simulates reaching orgasm, ass tremors she and leans forward onto the bench, breathless)

all I want is to step into my post-heroic masculinity

Stop suppressing mine to uphold others'

Does it make you feel good?

Does it heave your imaginary man pecks

to put me down? To walk around me like everything is cool

even though you didn't play by the rules,

Then I'm down to let you

If you think you're Top enough to top this.

Reflect what you see before you into words….

(BdSM audio stops but video footage is still playing and then fads out. Red light shines on center stage)

(Play track 9 off CD Song: “Only When I Loose Myself” by Depeche Mode )

Nadine enters stage left. She is dressed in a dark button up shirt and tie. She circles around Claudia inspecting her. Claudia is still leaning forward on the bench, breathless, senses Nadine’s presence but does not lift her head. Nadine pulls off her belt, and snaps it once- that’s when Claudia lifts her head and attempts to get up but Nadine pushes her back down. Then the BdSM scene follows, Nadine teases Claudia, with belt, hits her ass a few times, hits her across the back HARD. The scene goes on, more teasing, taunting and slapping.

Nadine ( goes over to Claudia, yanks her by the hair)

Who’s the bad Boi?

Claudia (with a painful look, but also pleased)

You are !