The Tease

There is something wildly exhilarating about holding off from having sex with someone you have recently begun a relationship with.

Teasing each other, drawing it out, focusing exclusively on foreplay,  just building up that sexual tension until finally you just both can’t hold back anymore else you’ll burn up.

It makes finally giving in feel so exquisite, elevating that first time to something like art.

To be witness to that pleasure in another human being, especially when you’re the one giving that pleasure, is second to none as far as I am concerned.

I wrote a little bit about it in my last post as well, you can check that out:D

Pleasure Incarnate

sun kissed skin
glistening
sweat stained
full breasts
swelling
as you ride me
again and again
hips clenched
eyes wide
trembling
as you hit the high notes
of that song that has been sung
since the dawn of Humanity
crying out
for mercy
for more
Gods for more
and I am nothing but a witness
to your beauty
arched back and screaming out
caught in this moment
singed into memory
Pleasure Incarnate

Mirror images

Mirror images

haunt my waking dreams

a cruel phantasm of existence

I see myself again and again

torn apart

cobbled together

a Frankenstein Monster

a mockery of life

just a semblance of what it is

to be Human

To be filled with life

To be whole

Only for these mirror images

to reflect back my truth

 

What defines an artist?

What defines an artist?

Is it a single piece of work that touches millions, or is it the consistent grinding out of good quality content that keeps a core audience enraptured over decades?

I don’t think there is an answer to the question, but it’s something that has sparked my curiosity over the past few years, what really makes someone or something great?

One of my favorite art makers is Studio Ghibli, that mastermind of animated work that has spanned decades, creating in my mind what can only be described as visual masterpieces that even 20 years later still enrapture me with their riot of colors and heartwarming stories of growth and perseverance.

Ghibli works are not perfect, nothing is, but they touch my heart, and have touched the hearts of millions of people around the world. Yet I still meet people every year who have never heard of Ghibli or any of its films, and look at me with a slightly puzzled look as I wax eloquently about how awesome they are.

No matter how amazing we think something is, there will always be someone who comes around and simply doesn’t think that what we love is anything special, much less worth taking the time to look at.

It’s that diversity of opinion that creates such a vast difference in the artistic work available to us. As people grow up and gravitate towards different aspects of culture and life, the work they produce becomes an amalgam of all these differing interests and gives us a huge swath of variety in the works produced.

So what some parts of society consider great work are laughed at by others as utter garbage not worthy of existence, it’s a sobering thought for those of us who work in any of the artistic fields since our egos tend to be quite sensitive to someone thinking our work is a piece of crap.

The world is full of everything and anything you can imagine these days, and I am quite happy to spend my days trying to create a space where people can laugh and cry and reminisce about their experiences through my work and the works of others I enjoy.

Especially Ghibli films, which are the most awesome and wonderful things ever and if you disagree you are obviously deranged.

Just saying.

The laughing God

Ruptured spleen and splattered blood
human frailty spilled out for the world to see
a canvas of pain and suffering
walking through streets of midnight
amongst rubble strewn streets
choking on a scream
choking on hope
choking on this thing we call life
dreaming of a place
not here
not there
anywhere but this
this existence
this weakness is
nothing but a joke
and I am nothing
but the laughing God
ruler of blood splattered
rubble strewn streets
empty homes
and scattered dreams
here
at midnight

-Jason B

Purgatory

 

I reach out
grasping
but there is nothing to hold onto
Falling without end
The wind tears my skin
again and again
Purgatory is within
There are no boundaries
between past and present
A cycle of fear and disgust
played out, no control.
I empty out through blinded eyes
and overflow, choking on the waste
of memories.
Freedom only in death.
Life only in forgetting.
Can’t forget. Still alive.

-Jason B