Control
He sits in the chair looking at me. His eyes are strong.
I cannot control minds. They are fickle things, which move to their own liking. I can only try to coerce them, by treat or by pain.
His eyes grow wide. His strength is gone.
I favour pain. The results are more honest.
Comments
Love this, so interesting; so many questions.
Perfect story to go with this classic track by old faves of mine Nitzer Ebb
Penetrating words. They probe, they proffer… but always provoke. Love this piece. Namaste Skye :o-)