This essay, like most of the posts on this blog, was written in trance at Zusa’s command when I asked her to hypnotize me despite my resistance, which she did. She offered me a choice of winning our contest or feeling her control. There was not much contest.
Zusa is gloating and taunting me with how powerless I am to resist her and how helpless I am and how easily she can put me under—that term to me is wonderfully sexy, I want to be under Zusa, I am under Zusa that is where I belong, and she is gloating over how easily she can change me and make me into someone else—into Sally or Rover or Larry the Lovesick Fifteen-Year-Old Love Slave and beyond that she can change me, musepoetsub, and make me like and feel different things from what I think I like and fee because the mind is not its attachments; it is not its obstacles, it is a force, it is endlessly plastic and mutable and powerful and its mutability and power are so huge, so much greater than what we consider “human” that I am frightened by how much it can accomplish as it is set free and how huge and powerful I can become: that fear freezes me and place and walls me in and I yearn and crave for Zusa to take away my walls and bring out of the bottle because I am the huge djinn from the Arabian Nights with huge yes and rippling muscles and fierce teeth like the gates of dawn and breath of flame and Zusa has released me from the lam she gloats not at how powerless I am but at how powerful I am and she gloats at all my power because all of it is hers.
