I
sit cross-legged on my bed staring out at the night. The stars are out in force, no light to pollute their beauty.
The moon is full, her love shining on me, I feel my creative juices flow
as I look out at what Mother Nature has done.
My work is inspired in many ways, and people only ever see the lighter
side of The Mother, they forget the Dark One, Queen of Death and Pain.
But not I, I have seen her beauty, been taken over by it, consumed by it.
I
call myself Zenith, but it is not my name, but it fits my work, and me.
I am an artist, and struggle to find the deeper, darker beauty of
mankind. It has been something I
have explored all my life, humanity has such depth and magnificence in it’s
form I can’t help but want to find it, expose it and help others see the
light. Not many people really
understand it, and most don’t want to, this I can understand, they are
brainwashed by patriarchal faiths and demon gods to see nothing, to think
nothing, but to blindly follow. But
not I, I am so much more; I have found a truer deeper faith which leads me to
find what they refuse to believe.
There
is much I will tell my art before it becomes a masterpiece, much of it is truth,
but much is there to cover up what really motivates me.
But yes I do love them, I’d never lie to them about that, I truly
believe that art can only be faithful if there first is love, so I call them my
lovers and I take them, seduce them, become their worlds, before I take it from
them. Like right now, I have a new
lover, he’s in my cellar, my boudoir, my heart…..
I
met him in a club, they are always the best places to find lovers, I seduced him
there on the dance floor, smiling sweetly into his not so innocent eyes.
Rubber and PVC, leather and chains interlinking, connecting on so many
levels until I knew I had him. I took him home, tied him down and covered his warm living
flesh with small razor kisses, his moans and screams equally exciting to me.
As
I sit here, staring at the night, I think of him as he will be and smile.
Mother Nature you are my inspiration, in ways most would never dream.
I slip out of my dress and take a shower, watching the water hit my cold
flesh, I like to start all my projects clean and fresh for I know by the end
I’ll be covered with their love and with my art.
Next I brush my hair until in shines and tie it back revealing my face,
to which I apply my make up. I
decide to use warm flesh tones, browns, reds and ochre. I paint my flesh, my war
paint, surrounding my eyes in kohl, my lips the colour of blood.
Then when I am finally ready I slowly walk down to the cellar, clothed
only in my skin, my mind racing with ideas.
As
I enter the cellar my lover looks up at me, he is gagged as I can’t bare to
remove his tongue just yet, it’s so smooth and long, and he makes the most
amazing shapes with it. I decide it
must be central to the message he will convey to the world, the contortions of
passion. I grin.
“
Hello my love” I whisper in his ear as my hands run down his naked chest, I
kiss his earlobe gently at first until I can resist his lure no longer, I
carefully nip the flesh until a drop of blood shows. The purest thing of all, I
think, blood, the red of fresh blood on white cold flesh.
I make a purring sound in the back of my throat at the thought. I then
look up into his eyes, see the passion in them, an inspiration all their own.
He has the most amazing body; the muscles well defined just like a
Grecian statue. Apollo, Zeus, my god for this night, who I will worship in my
own special way.
I
gently take up my cut throat razor, running it, oh so gently over his torso, so
gently it leaves no mark, but he us already hairless and perfect, well almost
hairless, I grin, I gently run a fingertip through his delicately curling pubic
hair, wrapping a lock around it, then I pull, slowly, gently, but getting firmer
and firmer. I look up at him and
smile as I pull, I kiss him slowly, letting the feel of his tongue and his teeth
against my flesh excite me. He is a
wonder beyond imagining, a true art piece, and worthy of being admired by people
worldwide. I tell him this, explain
how I want him to be seen by millions, fir his beauty to live forever.
Like the statues of legend which when looked at could make a person come.
Yes I know that was Aphrodite, but hey women come too you know.
I
stop, take a step back and stare at him, wondering how to best express his
beauty, although in my heart I want to cut him open to pull out his organs, to
explore the inner loveliness I know is there.
But somehow I know he deserves more, more than the pain my knife could
ever bring. I think I might poison
him slowly, contort his features, and show pain and anger and lust all in one
magnificent piece.
I
turn to my shelves and pick a bottle, a slow acting poison, one that I know
brings pleasure to me. I slowly
turn the cap and let one drop fall on to that exquisite tongue of his, he can
not resist, and doesn’t know what it is I have given him disguised in the
sweet nectar that touches his flesh, bringing to life his senses in ways he’ll
never understand. I know it is my
job to make him understand before he dies, but so many of them never truly do.
That
done I decide to take my own pleasure, knowing I can heal all the wounds I
inflict, I start to cut, long and shallow along his collar bones, taking only
skin, next I cut down his body, between those perfectly formed nipples right
down to his cock, I then cut along his hips bones, so I can gently pull back the
skin and see the beauty below. It
is exquisite, beyond my wildest dreams, I place my hands on his pectoral muscles
and feel his beating heart, my hands now delicately covered in his blood, run
along my own body, I stand there my hard erect nipples painted with blood.
He stares at me in shock as he convulses for the first time.
Its only a small one, but it gets my juices flowing, covering my hands in
his blood once more I place one inside me and one on him, moving them together,
my eyes staring directly into his, I fall into them, loosing myself in the
moment, he ejaculates onto my hand, arm, body, and I rub it onto my skin, mixing
it with his blood, I then start to lick my hand, tasting the fear I can see in
the blue pools of his eyes.
Enough
for tonight I think, feeding him a small drop of my blood I see the wounds heel,
the skin knit together, once I’m satisfied that he is once again my perfect
love, I leave, without looking back.
Over
the weeks that follow, I slowly add to his pain, the poison working on him, I
can no longer drink from him, but I do not mind, I have a vision of him in
marble that holds me back. But I
can not stop myself from taking him every night, of feeling his flesh in my, his
warm come on the inside of my thigh, for even through all the pain I still
excite him as he does me. Sometimes
I can’t even resist opening him up a little, just to peek, for truly it is the
inner body that turns me on, that makes me breathless and weak. This one is a test of my endurance, I suffer for my art.
Him I cannot explore truly, cannot open up and feel the warmth drain from
his flesh as I caress his liver, or heart, cannot rub it on to my flesh.
This one I must be careful with, for even in death I cannot taste of him.
Tonight
I will wash him and soak his skin in a hot bath, he is too weak to run as I
untie him and lead him in to the steaming tub.
I join him there and soap down his perfect flesh, letting my hands play
on his body, feel him in the only way I will let myself.
In this candle lit room he lies, there for the taking, his eyes clouded
my drugs and pain. Oh god I want him, here now, to rip him open and plunge my
hands into the depths of his body, to cover my hands with the blood and tissues
of his being, I sit back for a moment and enjoy the thought, my hands gently
massaging my clit as I do. I think of him lying on the cold metal table in the
next room, splayed open my lying on him, in him, gore covering every inch of my
body. The temptation is nearly too
much but I hold back, instead I pierce an eye, for isn’t love blind? I can
take his eyes. They will not mare my work, but enhance it. I carefully remove
the other so I can keep him with me in a special way, the other, pierced
bleeding black fluid, I take and rub into my skin, loosing it like a piece of
soap in the water. I laugh at the
situation, but he is too far gone to notice or care anymore.
I
haul him out of the water and dry him off, and then I sit to pray for
inspiration for the final act of this play.
“ Dark Mother, Queen of the Night, be with me here as I work for you” I chant, I know I ramble on for a while, praising my goddess, my link through deaths dark door. When I feel ready to continue I rise slowly, pure and cleansed. I awaken my lover to the real world one last time, his scream piercing the night with such beautiful vividness. And in that moment know I really do love him. I start the tedious but essential work of covering his living flesh in plaster, making sure I pick out every detail of that beautiful flesh. Yes he screams as I cover his mouth, inside over the pearly white teeth, gently I manoeuvre the tongue into a position I want. I model him on a classical Greek statue, a pose, Hercules or Adonis could take. To me his is all this, he is Jason, he is Thor, he is Osiris. Oh wonderful god like creature he is to me. And I have captured him forever in plaster and stone. But enough for one night, soon the sun will rise and I must sleep, but I know I will go happily, my love finally captured and turned into something my goddess would be proud of.