Pulped in his crushing strength, his hug is enough to smear me over his body like war paint.

Pulped in his crushing strength, his hug is enough to smear me over his body like war paint.

Poppet
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The unreality of the past weeks lifted like a fog, but its residue remained. All of the past is like that, but most especially the parts that are out of the ordinary.

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How shall I ever learn who I am when there is so much of me that belongs to someone else?

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Alone in the dark all we have are the supernal lights in each others eyes left to illuminate the room, the only sound our breathing.

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Stapled to her gaze, sucked into the potency of her focus, only the trace of her blood in my mouth reassures me this is not a vision but a hallucinogenic pause from responsibility.

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Every man needs a shadow to reveal his light, to always be that close, ever present, bonded forever in astral allegiance.

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Why the hell do women always have to bring back up? It's not as if I'm going to molest her at the opera.

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For why war? Nada ne hurt, sister ne hurt, for why you make vesna sore? For why!

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I'm the riddle you have yet to solve

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He's a contradiction and that's why he's so perfect.

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