Colors had finally died, lied, made

me think, blink in ghostly breaths,


I laid ashen and blush, everything hush,

pale, and upon me You climb,

snowing, exploding….

Skin on skin, open, gaped in blurry


I quiver, shiver as you lick the

folds of Spring away…..


He makes me sore, through my pores, and i want


Pushing my limits, always and more, to my core….

My dark muse brought to life, like a knife he splits,

becomes apart of me, my only plea….

He’s kissed every inch, pinched, leaving

his mark till we part…..

I love feeling him the next morning,

his smell still inside me, sore, till

i want more…..


Past the backdoor to the front, on knees, nose to doorbell,

my soul sealed, done deal…..

Sucking my feet, trick or treat….

In your warmth I can be found when no ones


Teeth on nipple and I ripple, pushing me just

a little bit more, your little whore….

Spanks ass, breaking me like glass,

and I submiss, only with a kiss, as it

slips between my reds…..

Nails on back, sublime cracks to let you


Hair in hands, every strand gold, bold

as you control……

You nudge, shove, inside, out, making

me drought, until your mouth is

there again…..water me……



I can still feel him on my

lips from the night before…..


*Picture taken from Pinterest*




Pussy howling, on the prowl to meet and


*Image taken from Pinterest*


That he is adorable, so much younger than me,

but, could he be the key to unlocking…me…..

His eyes like the skies, i want to dip and fly…in


His hair neat, calm, and imagine getting

tangled there, just to hear his breath against

my neck….

I’d like to taste him, hard, soft, maybe, teases

just to see shadows cross over, the afterlife waiting,

baiting, will he, or won’t he….?

Could praying hands touch sin and still


He knows…because i told him so…..


The Skin I Live In: Jedrek Pordzik + Konstantin Vasiliev by Ian Chiang


I want to see him even when i don’t….

Running my fingers through sunlight,

and i wonder if i could make the darkness

rise, see it in his eyes, and just for a moment he

becomes mine…..

Would he turn gold, be bold, cross that

line, hope to die?….

Dreams come and we misbehave,

Tasting, touching for the first time

in time slips….

I want him intravenously, bleaching

my veins as I go insane….

HIM…on my lips in secret…..



Tick-Tock and the clock knots….

Here i lay twisted in pink and purrs and you

snoring, ignoring….

My girls want to be be free you see, so,

i obliged, keeping secrets under the

covers, for lovers….

*Picture taken from Pinterest: “La Petite Mort”. French School, 18th Century | Lot | Sotheby’s *





Are you…wanna be my fuck boy, toy?

To turn the moon blood red while giving you


I’ve always known love was not for me, you see….

Can I straddle while you paddle……..please…..?

I’ve dreamed of you a million times until you finally

become real, my thrill….

I want to become soppy wet, my pet as your

fingertips pretend to drift on bliss as my eyes

roll back, riding you, if only your mother knew…..

Between the pews we play instead of pray as

God watches, cusses….

So long and lean, your hands run red as you trace,

heart race, meeting blue skies and tied dyes…..

I run in fields of gold, flowing through pink flowers,

as we blend, bend, taking you deep, playing for keeps….

Mouth on me, stirring Heaven in my veins, insane…..

I gush, rush, and I don’t want to be saved….

You, the sunlight, me, your dark dream….

I wonder what you would sound like when you come,

would you say my name in shame…..stay

hard, in charge….?

We, sinners, having each other for dinner….

I wipe my mouth, eyes meet, famished all over



Tie me just to see
me come undone under your
twitching fingertips….

You hold my eyes, down
you roam to my lips,
tongue flicks out, needing to
feel wet….

In one swift moment, you
on my mouth hard, coloring
my flesh….

Teeth emerge and I bite,
hear you gasp as I
smile against you…

I reach out to taste,
leaving behind my dew for
you to wonder in….

My hand reaches out, fists
your hair, pulling your head
back away from me, we
met, and I lean up,
pull you to me, and
sink into your neck….

Something primal arises, like
the moon piercing the night,
forcing her to open

I raise up, and darkness
meets as you push me
back, sacrificial….

On all fours you climb
on top of me, breathing
is shallow, and you glow
all around me, beautiful, dangerous….

At that moment, I want
to be fucked endlessly, mindlessly,
for YOU to take all
my thoughts away…for us
to lose our way…..

Legs wrapped around as you
enter, filling me, nails dig
into back and so you

You show no remorse as
you beat over and over
again, our bodies battered,
our hues blending….

I hold on to your
savage, slick with brutality….

I quiver, rush, and find
myself on top, riding, hands
digging in hips, moving
me against as you guttural
sounds of dying…..

Hands reach the heavens as
I twist you to fit
my needs….

On my hands and knees,
you behind, relentlessly thrashing me
to pieces, and so I
shatter, running down you, on
you as you drum within,
mending me whole…

We collapse knowing this will
never be enough to fill

Luke Atkins

Film, Music, and Television Critic

social underground



A Student Literary Journal

hands in the garden

reflection + romance + release

Diary of a Psychokiller

take a trip with me to the darkside


Rippling Juices Of The Bright Eyes


Thoughts on an ever-evolving life


. . .can you imagine?

During the days in which I choose to conform, I do so with a specific feeling in mind that I want to achieve. A sort of climax that I aim to reach. A feeling effortlessly maintained between the ages of 6-9 and again between the ages of 13-15, when being a girl was simply one of the numerous ways of being.


Views of a Dandelion Girl

Tshombe Sekou

Poetics & Rumens


Paranormal Author, Artist & Empath. Follow Sheila on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram! @sheilareneeparker