Indulgence, BrutalityI am sacrilege. I am talons and fury.Indulgence, Brutality by TheTerrorOfTheDeep
Savagery with your heartbeat between my teeth.
Scars are not enough.
I will not be an ache in your knee when rain is coming
Or smooth bumps of skin healed over.
I am brain damage and blindness.
Wrist deep in your guts and battery acid in your veins.
There is something sensual about vehicular arson
And spit and blood from the corner of your lips.
You will wish you had not survived.
I may not be missed when I’m gone,
But I will never be forgotten.
this is about forgettingThis is the thing about forgetting:
for all intensive purposesi am accused of being
LW: (title page - epigraph)"Camus said that the only true function of man, born into an absurd world, is to live, be aware of one's life, one's revolt, one's freedom. He said that if the only solution to the human dilemma is death, then we are on the wrong road. The right track is the one that leads to life, to sunlight. One cannot unceasingly suffer from the cold. […] The track he followed led into the sunlight in being that one devoted to making with our frail powers and our absurd material, something which had not existed in life until we made it."- William Faulkner
Bee's Pre-SmutHis hand warmed her skin as he gently stroked the soft skin on the inside of her thigh. Her body tingled when his fingers danced across the material of her panties. She wiggled her bottom to reveal a bit more flesh. She watched his eyes flash down at her movement. The smirk was all the approval she needed.
Behind Blue EyesShe lay on her bed, unable to even get out of it and walk around her own home. Having had visitors most of the day, she was grateful for the peace and quiet her empty room gave her.
edgea bundle of nerves and feelings
You're Beautiful, But I'll Make BreakfastAlice swayed her body to the side and slithered off Paddy, pulling the sheet along with her. He watched her head fall back onto the pillow next to him. Her twisted brown hair covering her face slightly. Rolling onto his side, Paddy's hand swept the hair from her face. He let the backs of his fingers brush against her cheek while his other hand gripped her waist and yanked her body closer to his own. “You're beautiful.” His voice was barely a whisper with just a hint of an Irish accent. Everyone in his family had it. They teased that it was the only thing they had left from the old country.