Wednesday, December 2, 2015

"Barefoot girls dancin' in the moonlight…"



(Sleepishness)



What happens.

I'm at a transitional point, somewhere near the middle of the riddle of the Sphinx, a two-legged comma just in the pause of one well-telling.

I tussled with sleep all night, again, wrestling lovers' lost. I wanted more than ever before to exhaust myself into uncertainty.


This post should have a picture of myself, if I had a good one. This site is starting to feel like a webcam focused on my bedroom. It is concerned with nocturnal motion, the sweating upon of thread-count sheets, and then the occasional erotic mystery of dreams.


What happens...


Used to fuck, such dreams well of it.






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