The Prized Tyrant

The pale blob, the way its doughy surface gives to the palm’s grasp, pillowing needy fingers, and how its tight lipped mouth makes no effort, requiring the desperate to kiss it shamelessly as it spits small portions of its wonder cream into the mouth of the victim it derives so much pleasure from saving.

That bitch. That power hungry lucky devil prized with the fountain inside her; giving a taste, a tease, and then hiding away until deciding that one’s painful screams, surrendering to slavery—“I am yours for more, take me”, have reached sufficient depths.

can you elaborate?

why did you write this? what experiences, or thoughts frame these words?

Sure.

I was reading about Melanie Klein and got inspired by the following quotation:

Wow. Interesting what you’ve come up with and what inspired it. I like it very much.

I love pieces like this, where you describe something that we can all see, and yet not see, unless we look at it a certain way. I read through this a few times before I had an idea of what you were talking about, and I like that, I like poetry or prose that makes me work my brain to understand. And even understanding, I still did not know you were necessarily talking about a human infant, until I read your elaboration below. For some reason I got a more primal feeling, something wild and untrained driven only by this desire, something primitive - which, I suppose our newborn selves would indeed be; this made me realize the ‘animal’ nature we try so hard to supress is evident even at so young an age. Very nicely written, and a lot of power for so few words XD.