I like building whatever is behind me. the scene, the set, this imperfect, homemade world that exists in my head, that i can touch and capture in photo form. to then dismantle, take it apart, tidy it away.
Only you (the viewer) and me know it exists.

And when Im at home and look around, I know it's here somewhere, that it's been here once, but nobody else can see it.

the secret world of me. and you.

next time, i'm willing to give you the keys.

composing a brand new blank

It's striking in composition, it's absolutely sterile and insipid.
the vapour trail of you and me.

Pour the words in my ears, make a fake promise or two and I will jerk you off
off out of your system, off my radar, your bullshit stays.

but then there are the days that I feel slightly touched by the tiny little actions that I read so much into.

cumming over and over and over again.
I want to release the unleashed. it's coming so fast , long time going,
I will cum on you on a splash
.
.
.
and wash your bullshit away, as if it had never happened.