Will you really take me
Right here, in the yard?
Where everyone can see-

Pay them no heed,
I just want them to watch
As I plant my seed

But daddy, they're staring
I see the envy in their eyes
Getting close to glaring
As you thrust between my thighs

Darling, don't be silly
They just wish they were you
Or even wish they were me
Dominating, owning you

Oh fuck, that's the right spot
Please don't stop now,
I couldn't care less for the onlookers
It's only about how

You're breaking me in two
So don't you dare slow down
You're fucking my sorrow
Back to smiles from a frown

They can all hear you, baby
Every desperate whimper
As my cock fills your pussy
As you purr and simper

I'll lift you up now
So I can grope at these tits
Then right on my cock I will turn you to sit

I'm closer to the edge now
My eyelids are glistening
With wet unshed tears
And those whispers, they're listening

As I quake and stutter
Tipped right off the edge
Moans become curses
My body to you I do pledge

Hold on tightly, darling
They can all watch exactly how
What a Dom does to his Sub
My prized little sow

Urgh... fuck... fuck! I'm cumming
Planting seed right inside
Your legs should be shaking
Mine are too, I can't hide

Slumbering amongst abundant wildflowers,
A serene sigh slips from her lips.
Sunlight tenderly warms her skin,
While chocolate tempts her with its sweetest sin.

At that moment,
He wanders in across the cobbled stones,
Drawn by a breeze that whispers through the air.
Past watchful sycamores, he follows its call,
Each murmur beckoning him near.

His footsteps stir the delicate blooms,
Each step a whisper against the earth.

He pauses.

His gaze descends upon her,
Lingers,
Devours.

And then—
His lip curls in disgust.

You hold this story like a treasure,
tucked away for the right hour.
When the sun leans low,
I will tell you:
I notice how you never miss the chance
to step out in style,
to wear your brilliance like a garment
for the world to admire.

But beneath the color and the cut,
you are a locked door,
a quiet room,
holding pieces of yourself
back in the shadows
where only you can go.

I want to tie you up
And have my pretty little way with you
So many depraved things
I would love to do with you

Like leave you handcuffed to my bed
Whilst you beg and plead for more
Cut my name into your skin
Promise that I'll love you evermore

Whilst trailing lines with my tongue
Along your pulse and heart
Press my fingers into your hips
Give your cock a kick-start

I'm a quintessential brat
That'll look at you like that
Pure hungered heat in her eyes
And a burning pulse between her thighs

Let the world fall away
As my fingers come out to play
Dipping between each soppy shore
Gasping, grasping, wanting more

But pull the fingers out from their den
Wipe them across your mouth, and then
Smile as you start to lick your lips
Pull you into the deepest kiss

Watch your muscles pulling at the ropes
As you yearn to grab me, turn this scene around
Until you are there on top of me,
But baby, you need to forget those hopes

For I am the one in charge, for now
And I'll show exactly how
I play with my food
Before I absolutely devour you

I want to hold you
With my lips,
Wrapped around
Your face shows bliss.

Eyes roll back
Into your head,
My tongue runs
Along your head.

You pull me closer,
Your hand twists hair,
Straight to the base,
Then holds me there.

A pump, a swell
One jerk meets two,
A grunt of exertion
A gentle coo.

Thrusts into mouth
Just like a pussy
Hard as a rod
And keeps on pushing.

Saliva dribbles
From mouth to floor
And yet there's something
That still needs more...

Eyes open like a storm
Raging in your brain
Until my name
Becomes the refrain:

It feels so good
Just like that, good girl
Now pause a second
Give that tongue a swirl...

It's all backed up
Feel it in your balls
As you move us both
From floor to wall

Heaved up onto feet
Face pressed to plaster
Slipped into wetness
Heart beating faster

Faster now,
Pounded into brick
The cunt between my legs
Runs slick

Trickles down my legs
Onto your balls
Until grunting
Becomes pulsing roar

Then with a cry,
You lose your load
Cock pushed tightly in
Hips slowed
Impulses showed

To breed and conquer
Mouth pressed to ear:
Well now, that was
Just incredible;
Thank you, dear.

10 sep 2026

im watching the train

coming into the station

slow motion,

because i can see

the place where

the track has already

come loose.

i make eye contact

with the people inside

they smile back at me

and i smile back too;

what else could i do?

why should i make

my worry

their worry?

they're about to have

worry enough

of their own.

In bed I lay, blanketed in my jealousy
The world has left me behind.
I scroll endlessly, a deep aching longing for places I’ll never visit,
Food I’ll never taste,
And clothes I’ll never wear.

I watch forgotten friends wish belated birthdays,
Congratulations graffitied on the walls of strangers I never truly knew.
New lives and fresh beginnings.
As I lay in my quotidian throne I am filled with a lust for more.
A hunger, for a world I may never know.

I watch those around me flourish in careers,
Becoming mothers,
Married with mortgaged homes.
And from my castle of despair, I am hateful.
I have wished them all dead a thousand times,
Simply for having a life more fulfilling than mine.
I scroll and I like and I comment,
Best wishes to the happy bride!
Sending my love to the beautiful family!
But it is lies.

I am sickly sweet.
Sticky and false.
Clinging to a sliver of disaster.
I read unending comments, searching for anarchy.
I have time on my hands,
Endless amounts.
So I scroll until the secrets fall out,
And I bathe in them.
From my kingdom, I rejoice.
Satiated in the knowledge that “picture perfect” is as much a liar as I.

Her touch is intoxicating,
luring me in like a reptile bathing in the summer sun.
I can’t move.
No, I dare not move,
afraid to leave the warmth I so desperately need.

Her blue eyes are like the first steps into a rolling beach wave,
soothing,
the feeling of the ocean cooling you from the summer sun.
I can’t get enough.

Her voice is like a siren’s,
consuming,
lingering on every word,
luring me into her oceans from my ship,
where I forever sink into her beauty.

Her giggles after I’m done tickling her,
her little huffs of breath in between,
her full cheeks,
her scrunched nose,
her settling in,
waiting to see if I’ll tickle her more,
her flopping as I tickle her again.

Her smile is my world.

I’d willingly lose myself in you, because to me,
being lost in you is my way of being home.

I laughed, not because it was funny, but because I’d seen it all before.
The same tired tropes, the same old pain, the same body declared a war.

An illness with an illness, a misery made art,
A slow disappearance striking cold and sharp and smart.

How many books could tell the same story and give it a different name?
How many lives could fall apart before it stopped being the same?
They made it sound so sacred, the suffering, the pain,
As though there was something lovely in having nothing left to gain.

I kept reading, half amused by how predictable it could be.
Another character hating their reflection, another line that felt like me.

And wasn’t that the strangest part, the thing I couldn’t quite ignore?
I laughed at all the things I knew, then turned the page for more.

Outside, the first real cold had settled heavy in the air,
The kind that slips beneath your skin and leaves you standing there,
The kind that makes the world go quiet, numbing you for a while,
Until you almost can’t remember how it ever felt to smile.

There were quiet lines for every day, a precise and silent count
Of taking less than you were given, measuring down the amount.
Of trying to make a body smaller, needing less to be enough.

I knew those lines. I knew that fear. I’d written my own somewhere,
Keeping track of every day I thought I took more than my share.

And still, I laughed. How could I not? They’d captured it so well,
The quiet little tragedy, the private kind of hell.

They gave the pain a purpose, made the suffering profound,
As if you needed pretty words to make a life worth writing down.

But reaching the end, I turned back, tracing every act.
The lines were still the same, the ink hadn’t moved an inch,
Yet something in the words I’d mocked made my stomach twist.

I read them again, and once again. What once felt far away
Was standing quietly in the room, with nowhere left to stray.

I’d thought I knew the story, that I’d seen it all before,
But every line I read again became a closing door.
The room grew cold. My hands held tight against the final page.
I’d laughed at all the clichés, dismissed them as a phase,

As if knowing how the story went could keep me safe from harm,
As if recognizing the trap meant I’d never lose my calm.

I looked down at the paper, at the ink beneath my thumb.
I’d spent so long believing I was different, that I couldn't be this dumb,

That this story wasn't mine to claim, that I was standing clear.
But the more I read, the less was left between myself and here.

I wanted to laugh again, to call it fake, to claim they didn't know,
To pretend the author guessed at things I’d never dared to show.

But the words stayed printed on the page, and nothing left to hide,
And for once I couldn’t close the cover and leave it all inside.

I’d picked up the book to mock the grief between every little line,
At the way they made a sickness sound so holy, so divine.

I stopped laughing for a second and put the instruction book away.

Cause I knew the book by heart,

My words on full display.

Grasping at the shadows of a love long lost.

Hey,

That’s how the modern love story begins. With the extension of a greeting, a branch from the shrouded cover of what makes you, you. We reply, but rarely to the satisfaction of either. Too short, too long, too intense, too dull, you grasp at the shadow of an idea you both tread, yet are too afraid to state out loud. “I’m lonely, so help me out of this pit, you, stranger I don’t know”. An extended hand, clawing helplessly for a remedy to despair and solitude and isolation and self hate and uncertainty and pain and - the hand clenches onto nothing. Or... it finds, something, someone? Something unexpected, like a rough surface to a match, you collide and the friction creates heat. A spark that shows the shadow it’s true nature - if only for an instant - to the universe as it observes. You.

And from that spark catches fire, and that fire burns bright, savagely tearing away at that intrepid darkness we all hold onto so dearly, clinging onto, like the clothes that hide our true selves. And you stand there, bare and nude for all to see, and you feel the warm tongues of the flames, as they flick at the scars life gifted so cruelly to you, searing them into submission. You fall into the heat and it consumes you, a warm certainty, an explosive tempest, a comfortable silence. Echoes of laughter bouncing off the stars and far away into the night. And that deep pit you once called home is lit up, and the flame makes it beautiful. You shine bright, a kindling kiss, a lustre founded in lust, that burgeoning burn. Pure fucking energy and bliss tapered by nothing but the edge of the galaxy. Love.

And then... one day, that flame’s flicker slows. And the heat that you so greedily held onto as your own begins to dissipate into the waiting darkness, desperate and entitled to it’s claim over your body. And day by day, hour by hour, the shadow grows wilder, or... not a raging blaze but the antithesis of one. A silent void. An indifference. Openly encroaching on the light you hold so dear, the one that makes you whole, creeping from every corner of your uncertainty and onto your everything. Day by day the flame grows colder, and where once it would roar out her name, now it sobs quaintly. The closing curtains on this sad Prometheus, icarus’s cold deathbed. The flame dies out, and you sit there, grasping at the shadows of a love long lost. Alone.

You’re gone forever. Residual heat of the fire we once shared, now stored only in memory; it’s phantom embers forever dance on that place we once shared. I miss you still, the sun to my moon. Free from my orbit, for good.

I love you.

I stumble…
Everyday into some new indifferent notion,
Some whim I can’t bring myself to be the fool for.
I look outside this foggy wet night, and see a tree veiled in mist.
What is it that draws my eyes there? As if some eerie malignant presence lurks beyond?
I think it is my own nature.
The monster that lurks within us all, staring back at me and waiting, it’s shadowy visage stalking my soul.
Awaiting my next action.
I will not cower before it, this soul of mine.
I am who I am.
My hatred, my fear, my reckoning.
I’ll inflict it upon this world in my own way.
My monster is my own.

My monster is me.

“Why have You forsaken me?”

Psalm 22:1.

“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”

Matthew 27:46.

“Why have You forsaken me?”

Chop Suey — System Of A Down.

Mm.

A recurring motif, no?

Both religiously and sacrilegiously.

Curious.

(Selah.)

I suppose I could cry at the thought of an angel

deserving to die.

Ah, always so self-righteous.

Never once quite slipped for over half of your life.

Could you be that angel?

Because you… you’ve always been so good.

And then, you fell.

You were so high, though, your fall was rather like witnessing death.

So impeccable.

What for, really?

You wanted to please everyone, but so early on, the rage beneath couldn’t stay buried for long.

You pleased everyone. At the expense of your life.

(Selah.)

It’s rather fascinating, I’ll admit, 

realizing how the ultimate expression of 

human abandonment hasn’t changed in the slightest in over two millennia.

Does anyone really take the time to realize that “pleasing everyone” becomes almost indistinguishable from self-erasure?

Given the data… I’d suppose not.

The angel remained impeccable because the angel was willing to sacrifice itself.

And eventually there was nothing left to sacrifice—except itself.

I mean…

If the highest, purest creation can fall, what chance did a human trying to be flawless ever have?

(Selah.)

Oh, don’t mind me—nor mistake me for trying to play the “devil’s advocate.”

By now, I’ll suppose you’re used to my willingness to play with imagery.

But…

Yes.

The angel can have rage.

The angel can fall.

The angel can fail.

The angel can even be responsible for some of its own destruction.

But still—

why was it forsaken?

That question remains unanswered.

Was it forsaken at all?

Given the data… it’s a plausible possibility.

Was it forsaken even before it fell?

Because otherwise… why would it have fallen?

How could it?

One was impeccable. The other was flawless.

You gave away your life to please others—

until the only piece left to burn on the altar was your actual identity.

Does that count as a Sunday testimony?

(Selah.)

Did it fall?

Did it want to fall?

Was it pushed?

Was it—for a millisecond—relieved it’d been pushed?

Because then, the façade could’ve been gone.

But no—life never makes it easy like that.

You’re living on the edge.

You so wish to die. But you haven’t.

Neither of you has.

Your earlier supposition that you could cry at the thought of an angel deserving to die is being proven consistent.

Do you think, though, you’re deserving of such punishment?

If death is supposed to be a punishment, anyway.

(Selah.)

You were sitting at that pew.

Hours ago.

Half of you… wishing to believe.

Half of you, as always, already gone.

And the only question returning to your mind was…

Why have You forsaken me?

I trusted You.

I believed in You.

I defended You.

I placed my faith in You.

So why…

Without apparent remorse…

Without an apparent coming around…

Without an apparent “I’m still here” whisper…

Mercilessly…

When did I fail you?

Was it when I fell in love?

Was it when I failed others as well, for merely

discovering I had my own wills—and they didn’t always align with Yours, nor necessarily please You?

Was it when I was overzealous about Your Word, and so consumed by my hunger for knowledge and wisdom that I might’ve become a little arrogant—and imprudent, like Solomon?

I wonder.

And if any of those—

or all of them—are true…

I would still presume to ask:

Why have You forsaken me, Father?

— Crownless.

It may not seem a nice thing for to say

That the criminals of the future are amongst the youth of today

But this is how it always was and is and it always will be

And this is going way back in time in human history

And this is something on which most would agree

That quite often crime does have its source in poverty

Due to their lack of money that led them to crime

Many young people are serving jail time

If everyone had enough of money it would be true to say

There would be a lot less people in prison today

Poverty in crime has a huge part to play

This is how it is and it was always this way

In the slums of the cities many born to fail

Their journeys in life often leads them to jail.

Francis Duggan

I am a fly

Hitting glass

Over and over

Wondering why

I am a lion with no pride

Please don't judge me

Cos Lord have I tried

[Verse 1]

Stop! I yield...

Halt! No more...

I lay on this field

Hugging the floor

...

And I look at yesterday

and he laughs to my face

His gaze, brittle like clay

Glistening behind the shades ...

[Pre-Chorus]

And I look at tomorrow

And he doesn't look back

As I drown in my sorrow

In his cloak, so white, so black

...

[Chorus]

And the street is dark

And the street is long

And the street is narrow

And the street is free

Free as I am

Free as I become

Free as Life, free as Real

Free as fear

...

[Verse 2]

And I look at you

yet don't want to

I can feel your essence

like an old dream

..

I strive to reach for you

to see you, to save you

But then I hold back

things aren't what they seem..

...

Why am I afraid to take a step

Why I start to miss the floor that maims my feet

Am I worthy of this?

I don't know why I lept

..

[Pre-Chorus]

Now there is no familiar pain

Just a long street

[Chorus]

And the street is dark

And the street is long

And the street is narrow

And the street is free

Free as I am

Free as I become

Free as Life, free as real

Free as fear

..

[Bridge]

Free as You

You that went the other way

Free as the Boy

free as the Man

Free as I can..

..Be

[Final Chorus]

And the street is dark

And the street is long

And the street is narrow

And the street is free

Free as I am

Free as I become

Free as Life, free as Real

Free as fear

..

Free as You

You that went the other way

Free as the Boy

free as the Man

Free as I can..

..Be

-------------------‐--------------------------

Thoughts ?

unlike belief , curses are not placed upon
one is born with a curse , unable to be withdrawn

they are not to be treated with fear or anguish
because once born , a curse cannot vanquish

they differ in purpose, reason and being
all in natures favor and it's intent of decreeing

they come in all forms of intent
one grants paths , one brings torment

i myself was born with the latter
my curse painting my life in dark matter

too late have i discovered the fact ,
whatever tormenting me rather abstract

from times existence i thought it was love
the feeling towards me , people were free of

whereas love was a thing i always adored ,
and my mind absorbed such impossible chord

and only too late , i was illuminated
my mind drowned in loath , and so i was baited

my curse was not my existence a matter of loath
my curse was reversed , enforcing an oath

Lips intertwined,
Spilling out poisoned vine,
Our faces crash like waves,
Spikes grow from my spine
Shivering, 
You spit your poison into mine,
A concoction of blood and wine. 

We flooded our minds,
Let it tease us,
Disease us.
The real poison was the lies.

Now my darkened eyes cry out to the night because you can no longer kiss me.
I just want the taste of our lips sweeter without whiskey.

mr hedgehog
are you muddling home?
but you’re caught between rubber and road
mr hedgehog
are you being missed?
my what short life you lived
mr hedgehog
i’m going to go now

I let the liquor talk, walked passed the limits blunt in hand as you've remained stranded stunted last to sicker side of life with this noose cutting knife we've let loose so bring it another round before we're in the ground, Let me put this bluntly won't count threads, never fear the needle we still never injected getting down out rejected, reflections on a society I cannot maintain or belong stayed insanity so sighs dive deep inside in plain view I'm in the rear mirror waving bouncing on momentum sounding off bringing analog of brainstems weighing in along which sleeper connections protect saving dearest devote saying I clicked my red ruby heals long before witches asked myself to throw out a spell still keep her pouncing winning again righteous here and nowadays...

You said that to me and you probably don’t even remember

Because you never remember anything

If she remembered, maybe she’d take responsibility

Another lie I told myself

I was never a human being to you

I was a TOY, an experiment, a project

An alien that you wanted to conquer

A token to ease your guilt when you complained about people calling you a chaser

My trans body was something that made you curious, made you wet, made you insane

Because you had to have me

Like you were entitled to me

Just like you were entitled to everything else

I started saying “no,” I started saying what made me uncomfortable

And I’m understanding that you don’t respect basic consent

You have no power over me

I’m not a misogynist because I stopped coddling your crocodile tears

Cry me a fucking river

You chaser bitch

Too old to forgive

Too late to hate

Too undone by love

Too much left to fate

Too sharp is the memory

Too dull is the ache

Too fragile the promises

Too simple to break

Too long we have lingered

Too deep in the shade

Too blind to the ruin

Too swiftly we fade

Too quiet the house

Too loud the regret

Too deep is the dark

Too much to forget

Too thin is the thread

Too frayed is the seam

Too slow fades the shadow

Too fast goes the breath

Too quiet to scream

Too heavy to hold

Too many dark secrets

Too easily told

Too close is the silence

Too guarded from scores

Too many epiphanies

Too peaceful for death

Too vast for our shores

Was highly indoctrinated with the clouds, usually had enough to puff and pass around might even be documented, no weed and drugging didn't make me demented just celebrated elements as a human, screwery likened to sorcessery necessary as potions Right my heartfelt as living tugging on My soul likely told story, unfolded mystery must us cast a spontaneous line, needing no one believing the words I'm speaking...

You got the quiet.
I got the noise.
You got the end.
I got the chores.
You got release from all this choice.
I got the days.
And then some more.
You don’t have to wake up split in two,
Or fake a face you never chose.
You don’t have to drag your grief
Through grocery lines and broken roads.
You don’t hear people say your name
And flinch like it’s a sudden blow.
You don’t feel time keep moving on
Like it’s personally fucking you over slow.
You got the mercy of enough.
I got the cruelty of again.
Again the sun. Again the breath.
Again the loss. Again. Again.
I envy your stillness. I do.
Your peace that doesn’t beg or ache.
I envy that nothing demands from you
What every day demands I take.
You don’t have to eat this grief
Three times a day to stay alive.
You don’t have to prove your worth
By continuing to survive.
They say you’re lucky to have loved,
As if love doesn’t maim and scar.
As if loving you didn’t turn
My entire future into barbed wire.
You got the ending.
I got the mess.
You got the rest.
I got the test.
A lifetime sentence with no appeal
For the crime of loving my twin best.
You don’t have to watch the world pretend
This was survivable, clean, okay.
You don’t have to hear them praise my strength
For not laying down beside you every day.
You died once.
A single blow.
A closing door.
A final breath.
I have to keep showing up
To a life that feels
Like prolonged death.
So if I sound angry, jealous, unkind
Good. That means I’m still awake.
Because existing without you
Is the cruelest fucking thing
This universe could create