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Come. Sit. Heel. Stay.

May 24th, 2016

Come. Sit. Heel. Stay.

Sierra Demulder

When I took your virginity,
I did it carelessly, like a dog
left alone in a butcher shop.
I taught you the way adults love
(quick, dry, no eye contact.)

A year later, in the back of your car,
you showed me what you had learned,
what kind of man I had trained you to be.

There was nothing playful
in the way you hit, tenderizing meat.
Scraping at skin as if you were trying
to take back what you lost inside of me.

By the time you came on my back,
my nipples were chapped
and gnawed as bones. My legs raw,
newly butchered lambs.

—————————————————–

This woman, this Poetess-Goddess, has stolen my breath. I want to write like her someday, if and when I ever grow up. I’m simply and ecstatically overwhelmed by the brutal beauty of each weighted word. This particular poem is from The Bones Below, in which every single poem is a visceral blessing of the senses.

I WILL own every single book of her poems. Or I don’t think I could live.

(Thank you, Mr. Prince, for gifting me. I couldn’t be more pleased.)

drive through de-masculation

May 23rd, 2016

castration on the go

Cock Ring as Metaphor

May 18th, 2016

cr

Contemporary art is a cock ring on a giant erection pumped up by capitalism and keeping the masters of that game from cumming. I think they like it. I think the artists like it, too. They get to pretend to be profound. Some are. Most are hemorrhoids waiting to happen. The blood that pumps it all up is money. Green blood.

Philip-Lorca diCorcia writing for Art Forum

hot buttered pussy

May 15th, 2016

the gluttonous whoreman

May 11th, 2016
  • always desperate for some serious, malicious ass-kicking¬†¬† femdom phonesex manwhore
  • perpetually groveling for brutal & barbaric ego-smashing
  • controlled by a prurient, animal dick that I own
  • craving his Mistress, Goddess, Dominatrix, Boss Bitch

He wrote:

I go without you for so long. I look for you and long for you but you are away, living your life as well you should. Then I see it–an email that you’ve mentioned me in a tweet. I rush there and consume the snippets that you’ve written and ache ache ache for more but am denied because of my impotence.

I imagine this is what chastity and edging are like.

I replied:

You’re too much of a gluttonous whoreman to enjoy chastity or edging.

Now … castration might just be the perfect answer.

Don’t forget to check zen fetish. You’re my (un)shining star, after all.