🦋''Careless Rapture''💀
10 MAY 2025 - 'lest you should think (s)he never could recapture that first fine careless rapture!' **Ruined & Overused Without The MUSE** +Poetry & Music. x
10 MAY 2025 - Far brighter than this gaudy melon(cholia)-flower.
Dear Chasers! …🦋
Who knows where this letter is going to get me or what kind of emotion will arise in me (and in you too maybe?) once it is published to the public alongside being sent to you in private. I recorded the poetry reading on 5 May which gives away a little insight into how much time has lapsed without fruition or even the beginning of fruition of the theme idea for this attempt of outreaching to the MUSES of the Universe. Yeah… like HIM, things left on a cold windowsill, the last time I cum before he did, the WiFi payment being due, this letter is among those lost and forgotten items languishing my drafts folder.
Well whilst all my thoughts were waiting to be seasoned in ‘drafts’ on the dashboard, the dreams in my head continued to marinade and during this quite short space of time life and love, has done what it always seems to do… it just happened. It came so quick and fast and in the moment! (*that’s what she said) - hey! that’s also the first (and last) time I’ve said that phrase since I split up with the monument idea of The MUSE. (I feel that saying is ruined and overused now). Kind of like me, ruined and overused without The MUSE.
In a daze five days flew by during which time I’m tired always exhausted, rather than on burnout, I was on meltdown with a side of stress and thankfully an R&R chaser ordered on the menu too. I’d only barely been smouldering beforehand so couldn’t possibly put this time out down to burnout (hiding from people online) offline hibernation, reluctant to create anything. Difficulty staying ‘awake’ - I swear I was seriously suspecting I’d been spiked with shit sedatives. NOT laxatives.. I mean shit as in rubbish downers and stuff. I’m not one for opiates. I love my recreational drugs of power! - I was considering maybe I was sick. A virus. A heavier depression than that which sits on my shoulders permanently.
Could it be that I have naturally overdone the exercise perhaps?
“hahaha! - IF The MUSE reads this his eyes will be rolling, his lips curled to a doff doff doff and his shitty Sean Connery accent would come out with some piss take remark- because I said ‘perhaps’ he’ll write me off as an arsewipe ‘fancy pants’- I miss that about him.. his shitty stuff being beautiful to me. His silly beauty still sends showers of adrenaline across my soul and sexual senses”
As I was saying………… Had I actually over exerted myself with physical movement? Not a prayer. All I had been doing extra was walking, carrying shopping, and staying on my feet 70% of the time in a day as opposed to the usual 10% standing time. I was doing more than usual but it couldn’t explain the ‘shut down’ feeling, loss of interest in things of my usual enjoyment, anger and the ability to sleep for much longer ungodly* hours.
*what will the muse think of my use of this word? Verbose/Anne Rice comes to mind.
So since 5 May the days gone by have been a blur where I’m lost and helpless to the presence of the unfolding ‘events’ going around me, I’m not only dancing with it, I am orchestrating it all while asleep on my feet. A bit like I am the other narrator unaware and oblivious to the fact that ‘Tyler Durden’ is my alter-ego too.
“It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything”..."You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else."
………and only in its passing do I notice the remnants of destruction in those moments of breathless abandon as the ability to breathe easy returns and in the still distant and close proximity of hindsight, can I relish the ‘strange-old-familiar-new’ feeling of hope and excitement of the reunited sense of ‘self’ and perception of ‘love’ it has, in its wake, like that of a quietly determined and unforgiving tornado; flooding the rubble and debris of negative daydreams and abandoned realities reflecting its positive impression upon me. The anger had resumed its role as the scaffold for my backbone, the barrier for my heart…. etc.
IN OTHER WORDS I DIDN’T NEED ANGER ANYMORE. IT DIDN’T NEED TO STEP IN FOR ME AND KEEP ME ON AUTOPILOT DRIVING THROUGH THE RED MIST.
I thought that when I started this newsletter that it would have to try and get my daily life and all the troubling things happening to me incorporated with the theme of the publication.. which is creativity, obsession, dreams, desires, ambition and creativity (things to such affect). I had no intention to talk to or about the actual MUSE too much, even though this will always be his home with me. I was going to sit down and talk about some sex life stuff that made me laugh, cringe and cum.. NOT all at once (like what usually happens!).
I wanted to talk to you about general inspirations. Climbing out of that black hole of doom. Giving my head a wobble and realising that no, I hadn’t been being spiked with sleeping pills so my boyfriend could plan my murder….or swerve that escapade and enjoy his JERKING OFF at the kitchen window all night peeping through the crack in the blinds up at the AirBnB bride-to-be mad party being held high up across the road. That’s the thing about short shirts, drunk woman, the novelty of ‘being somewhere else’ - they think they’re on their jollies in fucking Manchester City Centre -bless. ‘When in Rome Quotes Not Applied’.
I’m the same in Egypt or Ibiza running down mountains in Arabian Dry Heat , running around b-roads in flip-flops and Nan’s-net-curtain-sarongs, JUST to buy a massively oversized bottle of fucking plain water, that I won’t use, I don’t need it for drinking, I won’t make one cup of coffee myself (will always order out) well… it’s whatcha Dooo Ain’t it?? *Nod here to Gaz!* love yer man chill. x
It’s ORrriiiiight, cuz I’m on fackin’ Ollydaaaay’
“There’s No Need For Underwear… (I’m in a foreign land!!).”
Makes for a mad recipe for debauchery and sad/bad behaviour; that and the floor to ceiling windows, a load of crack and cocaine, a horny pervert who has a penchant for voyeurism; but with a dirty-interfering- girlfriend who keeps listening and touching her privates outside the kitchen door. Surely if she were to sleep it off -that’d be better??! He wasn’t poisoning me to subdue me in order to fool her enough to get away with his hard-on pressing against the washing machine. Oh, all those nights were partly real.
I wasn’t going to touch on it a moment ago because I was distracted again by The MUSE and his natural sexy demeanour but I can’t focus on all that charisma and sexuality with him until I can smell him. If I like the piss and sweat cock - I will like it all. See there’s nothing worse than a dick washed with Imperial Leather soap - reeks of old granddad vibes (not that I would know… hold on don’t be too disgusting. That’s my job… FFS … I keep digging a hole). No lets stop with the sick, accidental but still sick, innuendos.) What I mean is… a clean cock comes across as fake. I’d rather it smell of old farts than freshly scrubbed stinking like stuff from the times of Old Spice and Brut aftershave/body sprays. Nothing against those. My Dad actually loved Brut. My Granddad loved Old Spice. My Nana loved Imperial Leather soap.
Can you see why all those give me ‘old vibes?’ -I’m no psychologist - but if a dick stinks of stale piss and is sticky with cum from previous wanks, a bit of hot sweaty BO to box it off …. it brings back my ‘early Slut Days’ back when I was aged about 15 approx. one particular day was where we were huddled together against a metal filing cabinet somewhere open and obvious in the walk-in stationary ‘cupboard’ (it was small room) groping a lad from my class who had the biggest d…….. crush on me. Me: doing it just to get caught by the sexy History teacher who I fancied so much.
The idea that he was into Men.. although it never occurred (or deterred me) at the time. I was drawn to this gorgeously nerdy bearded man with a mad bow tie. Good job I didn’t have ‘being gay’ in my radar. Hindsight tells me his preference was similar to my own. I am so grateful it wasn’t of my understanding back then. Imagine how excited it would have been to a teenage Chasey to learn that the man she fantasied about, had something in common with her? COCK… but I bet he like his lover’s to be clean with a big bunch of bollocks like a bouquet of Belgium tulips. ‘Loose lips sink ships.’
“I can imagine him sucking a partner’s potpurri penis.
I swear I could tell you so much more but I need a cigarette break. I’m also leaning to my left on the arm of the couch with the laptop perched. I’m not wearing my glasses so can’t concentrate on any of this rambling shit I’m doing. This is flow state. Only the blood from my elbow to my pinky finger isn’t flowing at all. Its numb as fuck and I look like Edward fucking Scissorhands trying to finish this sentence!! I will come back and see what comes out. Have a break. Have a tit-wank! Listen, I’m gonna just post this out sort of ‘said and done’ and also at the same time ‘incomplete’. I feel like I have come full circle.
With or without sending any OBVIOUS message, I believe The MUSE has finally hooked up with the girl half his age with twice his life experience. They suit well. I think she’ll be good for his soul and is equip to keep his dickhead ways in check. I couldn’t have wished for a happier ending than this. For me it is the end, for them it is only the beginning. I wish them well. If she is the girl who I am thinking of in mind. I don’t have any knowledge just intuition.! Schizo-sight.
I keep losing my thread of thought on that note. I hope you get the message in my mixtape music. I hope you feel incredibly smart, talented, craved and loved. You Are So. x
All for your aMUSEment,
best wishes,
Chasey💀Delaney…. x
FREE MIXTAPE JOURNEY MADE BY CHASEY DELANEY
