One enters a Hellmouth like a snack but exits like a bullet.

184 miles on a full tank, snow on the ground, muddied as third act makeup, seventy miles an hour, headlight out, books at my side like wallflowers

What would we do if we lost our limbs, our genitals, and lay next to each other, helpless throughout the endless room of night, our skin turning blue without touching, blue with loneliness, blue as an empty promise of forever love?

When I began working as a submissive at a commercial dungeon in 2013, Fifty Shades of Grey was topping (pun intended) the bestseller lists…

Is this not a start? To define what is wanted from another, from oneself, one has to pretend to be the desired.

He never told her he was a banker, but it was easy enough to guess.

Under barbed wire fences of private / properties, taking shortcuts through secret / dirt bike tracks behind local Baptist Church

Forgive me this habit of feeding