Fetishes Part 2 -Dacryphilia

February 5, 2011

Fetish. The psychological definition of a fetish is any object or non-genital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation. An extreme form of a fetish is called paraphilia.

 

Paraphilia is a biomedical term used to describe sexual arousal to objects, situations, or individuals that are not part of normative stimulation and that may cause distress or serious problems for the paraphiliac or persons associated with him or her. A paraphilia involves sexual arousal and gratification towards sexual behavior that is atypical and extreme. -Wikipedia

 

That being said brings me to my 2nd article about less known fetishes: dacryphila. (Click here for Fetishes Part 1 -Nasophilia.)

 

Dacryphilia (also known as dacrylagnia) is a form of paraphilia in which one is aroused by tears or sobbing. Dacryphilia is primarily associated with males.

The term covers all forms of pleasure from the tears of others. The arousal is achieved when viewing a person in emotional distress. It carries the theme where a person (often a top in a BDSM relationship) induces another (the bottom) to cry, or otherwise show a strong emotion. –Wikipedia

 

For the most part the term is applied to dominant men making a woman cry through verbal abuse, spanking, whipping and similar “punishment” actions. It is a form of power play where the dominant controls the psychological response from the receiver. The dacryphiliac gets extreme pleasure and sexual arousal watching someone in emotional distress.

 

Although it’s more pleasurable for the dacryphiliac to cause the tears of another, he can also be passive and enjoy watching the person cry no matter who or what is causing it.

Any visual and sound of a person crying can set off the dacryphilia. Typically, a woman crying sets a man off sexually.

 

For some dacryphiliacs it only takes their own tears to get aroused.

 

I feel like crying for these people.

 

 

 

 

 

If you have dacryphilia here’s a popular YouTube video for you-


Stick to the Ground – A POEM

June 18, 2010

I wrote this on November 14th 2009. It was a bad week.

I feel the needles pressing my skin. Pressing harder and harder until they penetrate every part of my sexual appetite. I’m hungry and I can’t eat. Broken, poor, jaded yet lucid. I cry for more and I get less. I don’t want more and I get too much. The time it takes to get what I want isn’t worth the sheet of paper I write on. The terrible headaches and body spasms are permanent. I’ve come to believe that I believe in nothing. Pleasure has slipped away and pain is my best friend. The kind of friend that betrays you the minute you turn your back. Crying is useless and laughing is fake.

I spit on the ground and wait and watch and wait and watch and it doesn’t dry up. It stays there like the thoughts and obsessions of a possessed man. No dreams or passion. Only nightmarish obsessions sticking to the ground.

I eat what I see and see what I eat. I barely live on my own mind’s eye. Splintered vision separates me from you. I see only what I want. You see a ravished slave to his desires. I see a man living hand to mouth and ass to mouth. Shit. I hate when life creeps up on me and gives me what I deserve.

Maybe if I hide under a blanket of memories it will feel better. No. I have no memories. They go as fast as I come. Faster.


Exterminate – A Poem

June 5, 2010

I wrote this one in late 2008 after a break up with a woman. A woman. It’s always about a woman. Ha.

Exterminate

I need an exterminator to kill the bugs she left in my head, my heart. Some bug powder to kill the pain inside that won’t stop no matter how much I want it to stop. Stop. My head hangs heavy on my lap and I try to hump it to bring some life back into it and it doesn’t respond until it’s time to smoke or eat. My face is even redder than usual like a ripe tomato that I refuse to eat because I hate tomatoes and I hate her. I’m filled with so much anger that my stomach feels nauseous and I want to puke right here on my knees and kick myself in my yellow teeth wishing it was her kicking me or me kicking her for how desperate I feel as her face rolls around in my head over and over like a really bad fight scene from American Gladiators and I’ve never watched American Gladiators yet it stops for a moment and I feel slight nostalgia of what I thought we had but I now realize was never there. I’ve been played for a fool. A Jackass. A lunatic. A ninny. A nit wit. A Joker. “I’m the JOLLY JOKER!” I laugh. Then I cry because this as funny as a bowl of half eaten dead children’s intestines. My heart is broken and I hurt and all you want to do is to not feel your guilt and all I want to do is to hold you in my arms one more time and beg and plead with you to take me back and start the same sadistic pattern all over again because I’d rather deal with the pain later just so I can get more pleasure today. If that ain’t true love then I don’t know what is.

A drawing I did in 2001 or so of the great writer William S. Burroughs.


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