I want you to wreck me. Eyes closed, taste the succor of words, unexpected but perhaps all the more potent because of it. Flash images of tears that never come, brimming just over the edge of a line I never cross. I can’t transcribe what I see in my mind, but god, I ache for… Continue reading I Want You To Wreck Me
Tag: language
Fuck (I Love You)
Gasping. My knees ache and I don’t care. My pulse in my body, on the surface of my skin, throbbing. His hands on the rope, pulling, fighting. I struggle to sit up and he lifts me, growling something incoherent and slams me back down to fight with the ends tangling and wrapping, charged, electric with… Continue reading Fuck (I Love You)
Reconfiguring “Partner”
I don’t take language lightly. For all its flaws and limitations, the ways that we describe and name the things that matter to us is important. We will always miss the mark, at least a little. What you hear and what I say are not always the same thing. It’s the risk we take with… Continue reading Reconfiguring “Partner”
Let’s Fuck
Let’s fuck. Now. With words, hesitant and unsure, growing, building. I want. I want to want with you, to hear you finish that sentence, to shape it and form it and choke on it and claim it. Tomorrow. Yesterday. In memory and in fantasy, in the quiet hours of the night where the things we fear seem… Continue reading Let’s Fuck
Authentic vs. Genuine: The Chasms Between Concepts
I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about words that are similar or related, but fundamentally different in small, nuanced ways. Good versus experienced. Authentic versus genuine. I know that I have a love of words and language that is a bit...unusual, but I believe that the language we use, the words we connect… Continue reading Authentic vs. Genuine: The Chasms Between Concepts
The Taste of Fur and Honeyed Mead
“Timid.” I roll the word around on my tongue, trying to grasp at the sensation. “It’s got such a strange texture.” I’m curled up on his chest, his arms around me as I explore the shape and texture of language in my mouth and soak in these dwindling moments before he has to leave. I… Continue reading The Taste of Fur and Honeyed Mead
Yes
“I love you, too,” she said, because she speaks the language of my eyes and I sink into the words like a blanket of moss beneath my hands. Soft. Certain. Steady. It might have been the first time, or the fiftieth, or that time where we have lost track of the number of times we… Continue reading Yes
What Leaks Out of Your Eyes
“How does it feel, watching them?” he asked, studying my face intently. She is poetry; he is sensation. She looks strong, a strength I knew she carried but hadn't seen in this same way. She never looks weak, but here, he brings out something different in her, and I can't help watching, seeing her out… Continue reading What Leaks Out of Your Eyes
I Am Not Your Partner
This isn't really a response to any one person or situation, but rather a collection of discussions I've had over the last few weeks. It feels worth it to talk about publicly because it's something that is increasingly important to me, and it has come up with various people in different situations. The short version:… Continue reading I Am Not Your Partner
The Shape of Desire
What is the shape of desire? What is its form, it's boundary, it's motion? Inside my gut, electric movement. Does desire have tendrils, the kind that spread like mist beneath the skin until the body hums, a slow seeping? Or does it come quick and blinding, the lighting strike that rents the heart into fragments… Continue reading The Shape of Desire
Monomaniacism 