Something I collaged for Valentine’s Day of the year 2007. I have a hard time believing it’s been nearly two years. In some ways it seems less, and in other it feels as though much more time has passed between then and now.
I wanted to create something that would show my perspective when looking down at anything—or anyone—feminine hands can corral. It feels great to make that same heart shape with my hands and get the full measure of the size of a small man trapped framed by their enclosure.
Sunday, June 4, 2017
Trapped, framed, hidden, it’s all the same to me when it comes down to my hands, and his body. I was only now dealing with a spam comment on my deviantART gallery, and it’s the first time I’ve blocked someone there, but when I hid its comment, I got this notice I’d never seen before:
Do you want to know what my brain did? It went up in flames, is what it did. “Hidden by Owner” only made me thing of the status of a tiny man, a man I shrank, who then becomes my toy. I don’t ask him if he would like to become my toy, or run a survey to determine if being a toy fills his needs. I extend my hand towards his body, calculating the exact distance it takes for my digits to breach the distance between us, and once I find my fingertips have moved beyond his shape, I begin to close them around it.
It doesn’t matter if he’s standing there, looking at me and pleading for a different fate; or if he’s running in the opposite direction and pleading for a different fate. Once my fingers have closed around him, he’ll begin to understand how everything has changed. His response to that change is irrelevant. He might continue to struggle in my hold, because his brain orders him to do so… or he might relent for a time, going limp and adapting. If he adapts, he shows he possesses an interesting brain. He demonstrates an ability to think logically, and to avoid wasting energy as he conceives his next move.
Whatever his response, he knows he belongs to me now. Hidden by Owner.
Then I bring him to my lips, lengths and widths of flesh that push and pull at him, invisible tides that tie him down to my breathing, and drag him away from the anchor of my digits, only to return them at my next exhale. Does he imagine I’ll swallow him then? Is that the reason he imagines I shrank him? He’s not entirely wrong, but that’s not the kind of devouring I have in mind. I reveal my thoughts, my needs to him in whispers, the kind that shake his brain in his skull, and rattle his soul inside his body. There’s no way I mean that. Not that!
But I always mean every word I say… at least when I say it. Once again, he’s hidden by Owner.
There will be a time after that, after I’ve given him all my love, and shown him what he means to me, and promised I’ll keep him forever. A moment I realize I was able to penetrate his heart, rather than his mind. Then again it might happen that as tall as I am, I fail to do so. Then I have no choice but to un-hide him, to release him from my hold, and to let him go. I know I promised I’d keep him for all time, but he should have told me I had to reach him first. There are depths no one can reach, no matter their godly power.
I can’t keep what I don’t own, hidden from Owner.