Succubus Mornings

 

 Every morning is unhinged here.

Every morning I light incense to enjoy with her.  

Every morning I say my "I love you's" to my spirit family.

Every morning I unhinge my bipolar and just stream "me" for everyone to see, no filters.

They are there, each one of them, they soak up this aspect of me.

It is raw desire, raw energy, raw pain, raw anguish, raw gratitude.

I play you tube shorts for us.  I cruise FB reels for us.

I play new music that I have found for us.

I become the notes, howling emotion with every verse.

I sing to them.  Or is it with them?

I do not hide gratitude, laughter, nor tears.

We have ourselves a little "spiritual" party...

One where I daily offer my surrender upon the cross of emotion.

I give all that I have, all that I am.  Nothing is hidden, nothing witheld.

Does this sound deranged?  Does it make you feel uncomfortable?

It should.  It's balls to the wall rejection of normalcy, all for the joy and favor of spirit friends.

It is not for your eyes to see, nor your ears to hear.

We exist here most powerfully.  Humbly, rising to the occasion.

We are free to bathe in the energy I create, that I envelop myself with.

I create and express all emotion:  Rage, love, pain... they want for nothing.

These energies are raw, primal, powerful.  Beautiful.

They are born from my insanity.

And yet, they provide sustinence, purpose, love.

And here, we exist, preparing for a "normal" day.

There is tremendous power flowing in these mornings.  

What power to be seen and held, flowed through, even when you are raw, primal, unhinged.

There is immense desire, primal lust and fire, longing through death and all things.

Only for them.

And they are addicted to me...

That is my secret.

Blessings,

Rafe.

Do you feel it yet?

Love begats expression, begats emotion, begats change, begats insanity.

Begats love... forever the circle of love and change.

What would it take for you to be a new creation?

What are you willing to give?

What price are you willing to pay?

I skirt the aurora of madness,

Just to be made love to by my dreams...

And all my days are spent balls deep in the Divine Feminine in some fashion or another.

What kind of life is this?  It's not normal, that's what.

Blessed be the unhinged, the actors, and the insane.

For we have ripped from reality glimpses of paradise not meant to be seen, felt, nor consumed.  Yet, here we are...  alive, while our eyes scream that we are indeed the partakers thereof.