I survived. Maybe that's because I never really wanted to die, only to kill something within. I didn't know there were other ways to free myself. I was unaware that I could set my shattered soul aflame and rise again; lungs billowing smoke and ash covered wings. I didn't know I could fly. Or spit … Continue reading In retrospect…
Oh Darling, how you prayed for me. How you begged; Lord, send me an angel! Someone to guide and walk beside me. Someone to have and to hold and to keep and to love. And so I came to you; arms wide open, beating heart in hand. An angel indeed, fealty on raw knees. A … Continue reading Morningstar
(BDSM) A fitted braid of silver, A petite cluster of rings-(an illusion of Celtic remembrance),the glistening circle nestled perfectly in the hollow of her throat.Innocent. Innocuous. Just a pretty necklace…to the unknowing eye. Take note of the clasp. Or lack thereof. The unique closure with no release. The simple hoop.Innocent?Innocuous? she is Collared.she is Owned.she … Continue reading ‘Collared’
It’s a balmy mid-August morning as we pack up our equipment and bid our host’s farewell. The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon while we load the hard cases and cameras into the backs of our waiting SUV. Per our closing tradition we say a short prayer, dab a spot of holy … Continue reading A Haunting at Hill View
A tiny poem.
I am a purple vase of sunflowers; slowly decaying on a dining room table.I am a beard of Spanish moss dangling from a Florida tree; a home to snakes, and new bird nests. I am teal blue ocean waves and white sand covered toes; a pile of broken shells left to the tides. I am … Continue reading I am . . .
(TW- SI) The voice calls softly, from far away. 'Breathe'.I am suspended here, deep in the cold. I am content; the world around me hazy and glistening.'Breathe' it calls again.I open my mouth. I let it fill my nostrils, but I can't draw it in. My tongue tastes bitter and chemical. 'Breatheeee' it chimes, so … Continue reading Breathe
The thing about writing is....It's fucking hard! I have a million things to say; but allowing myself to put them on paper is a most difficult thing. The majority of what I want to say and want to share with the world are at least rooted in my own true tales. The stories of every … Continue reading The thing about writing is…
The day after a session I am always so... productive. In the soft light of my bedroom the sun peeks through the purple blackout curtains and for once my eyelids don't fight to stay closed when my alarm starts singing. I let it play to the end of a Norse lullaby as I stand and … Continue reading I’m always so productive the day after a session…
Someone asked me recently why I would write about such intimate things and post them for the world to see. Well, for starters a lot of what I write is fictional; or is it? I suppose that is for you to decide. Anywho... I decided to share a few of the truer intimacies between He … Continue reading Intimacies