Hand, to buy or rent, if phantom props are your thing– Body optional. (Photo by Man Ray) Advertisements
The scarring gleam, to produce penitent beads of sorrow, through a lashed eye, darkly. (Photo by Man Ray)
You said you knew me, but really, what did you know? Closer, I dare you. (Photo by Man Ray)
Naked, net value of a girl’s dreamless longing– Musing upon loss.
Drizzle of clear beads, perfect climate for daybreak– Silence braids our grief.
Seized, I am in the ripe feral grip of the new language she is speaking. Her voice fronting a glassy, ciphered edge, a grifting menace. Every calculated utterance bears double and triple meaning, with common intent to baffle, disarm, intrigue, … Continue reading
Distance, the middle ground between lovers locked in psychic undress; a ritual burlesque exposing wounds, we reverse course and seed safe harbors at the expense of metaphor and masks; intimacy skinned to savor a new course, near to grace, unfiltered.
