They say: “You’re only ENM because you want to cheat without guilt.” But those words are shallow, spoken by mouths that fear the depth of truth. If I hungered only for pleasure without consequence,
Read full post →I ache for rope—its cruelty against my skin, a language that dissolves thought into need. A slow catechism across the chest,
I exist in the paralysis between command and obeying — not sleep, not pain, but the mind made immobile. Nerves flare like dry
Forget want. This is need, a primal vibration thrumming beneath the skin, beyond thought, beyond reason. It does not bargain, it does
I have fallen into the pit of my own desires. Beneath a low, suffocating sky, shadows has fled. Days crawl past like
They bound my hands. They veiled my face. They labeled me, trying to define the currents I carry. I did not deny
There is power in being witnessed—true, unflinching energy meeting energy. Not a glance. Not a surface-level attention. Seen. Resonance acknowledged, currents
The air around me vibrates, a current I can feel, a hum that threads through the body and mind. It speaks of
Hurt Me Push me. Shatter the fragile currents of my form to reveal the pulse beneath. Let friction spark along the surface
A year of image-making, writing, ritual, and practice — organized by month. Enter the Living Year archive and move through the work chapter by chapter.
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