Embrace The Insanity

    Snapped awake at 5am from a dream I do not remember. Oddly the bothersome Demons typically responsible for nocturnal interruptions were nowhere to be found. Instead it was a naughty Imp, poking me awake, whispering lascivious thoughts, sweetly corrupting, tempting, tempestuous. Curled around my pillow, eyes closed against the dim, pre-dawn light, the thoughts were rampant in my brain and body. Not my usual soft, sensual, dream fogged thoughts. These had an exhilarating edge. Images of rough hands, eager, firm, not painful, yet with the chance of leaving a trail of light bruising on easily marked skin. Hands in hair, gripped tight, tugging firmly, head pulled back to bare throat. Bruising kisses, firm bites. Hands pinned. Muscles flexed, not in resistance, but with the feel of frenzied struggles. The recklessness of children at play, sweating, wrestling, King of the Hill. But definitely not Child's Play. It was torment. Thoughts such as these, alone in the near dark, torturous. Time lost meaning as my brain led me through these shadowy paths. Graphic images on the movie screen inside my head. Full color. Graphic. Uncensored. Making me insane. But I embrace the insanity.