Memoirs of A Concubine in Heat

For as long as I can remember I've been 

lustful of material possessions, and ceremony and ritual. I've embraced my

passions, and independent life. So you 

might be questioning why do I live at home. Or why do I dress casually or sporty. That is not my thing. I've always fancied myself as a geisha. And in another life I'm almost sure I was a slave. Or even a female concubine. Only to be used for my skills in love making or as most people refer to it a true submissive. Most of my life I have been polite to others. And concerned and caring towards their plight.

Now with that said there comes a cost.

Your reputation. Your singularity or plurality is subject to analysis by random people. And their comments. And those comments hurt me. But I let them slowly

fall off of my back. And as I age I feel more vibrant. And in my hair I find greys.

I'm almost becoming to old to support myself. And my life has been interesting.

But riddled with thoughts of suicide because as positive as I am. I'm unhappy.

I want to.parcipate in activities like swimming or treadmill or gallery viewing.

A spare cigarette or peach iced tea.

For I'm miserable and I long to be me.

Upon writing Once we're briefly gorgeous.

I had a catharsis I'm not sure if it belongs to Ocean or me. But I want to tattoo it my forearm and eventually leave because

I feel there's something out there waiting just for me. And imagine us gazing into each other's eyes. I was once in love with someone who told me I was his best friend. The only person he trusts. That he believes in our kind of marriage. He even asked me to go on vacation. We had a dear friendship. And we were intimate.

Instead of reminiscing over the past.

Or his life choice. I kept my mouth closed.

He married a beautiful woman and had children. That left me devasted. And at the same time I was in the presence of my sick elderly grandmother. Who I lost as she passed away. My mind became clouded and foggy. But my desires still remain. I instead lost my mind and became more reclusive. I started to decay.

But with anything as it is in life it is mind over matter. I've lived so selfishly.

I was the only one much like a spoiled brat. And this is where the story continues

to start. From at my early I would gaze up

above and view the little stars and look back down to my self inflicted scars.

And how I would rhyme without reason.

This is where my story starts.

I can bore you to death and tell you,

I long for a life of comfort and excitement.

But as interesting as it was in my youth.

I've always long for adventure and solidified my views. I only hold on to one thing my faith to get me through the day.

I'm not that religious and I feel so moved.

I'm more spiritual and I don't pretend to be aloof. And though out my follies. I've been made a victim. An irresponsible figure.

A worthless person. A loser in life.

But with all my creativity and creations.

I still long for love in any form. And every time I push forward and reclaim my sexuality or sensuality- I am punished.

The cuffs and chains go on and I'm pushed inside a narrow room which used to be my secret garden and I am used.

I am a concubine in heat. And there's nothing you can do. I am male, female.

A slave you abuse. And with my talent.

I am left with few accomplishments.

As I long to start my life anew.