Tag Archives: to meet your muse and match

deeper, farther, under…

I am on my back
—waiting to be spread wide apart—
waiting for you to die with the sense of you
—the pleasure of you—
the sensuousness of you touching the sensuousness of me
—all my body—
all of me is waiting for you to touch
the center of me with the center of you.

—Georgia O’Keefe—

i wasn’t safety…

I was Possibility.

good bones…

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.

— Maggie Smith —

it is well that we have met…

it is well that we have met

How odd, I can have all this inside me
and to you it’s just words.

— David Foster Wallace —

even if they’re all looking at me…

even if they're all looking at me
I’m still looking at you.


skin lane…

People think that it is in the tangle of bodies, in the actual congress, that one person invades another and takes possession of them; that it is on the bed that we give ourselves up.

Well it is true that there is a surrender there that is unlike any other, but the real time they get under your skin is when you spend these hours alone, preparing for them; imagining them.

That is everything, sometimes more.


— Neil Bartlett

you were called auxochrome…

the one who captures colour.

you were called auxochrome

I, Chromophore — the one who gives colour.

present tense…

Dear Gentle Sir,

Yes, I arched my body towards you; I was compelled. Utterly. Your soft, intense gaze sucked me in, much like your mouth did, and both inspired the most delicious moans. Even now, you turn me on like no other and I still want to be with you, especially like that: open, hungry, seen… gloriously wet.

I want you to remember how you make me feel. For those times when you are alone with thots of me, I want you to grip the shaft of your beautiful cock that once housed itself in my mouth (and between the soft petaled edges of my warm pussy). I want you to see my looking deep into the You of you and feel the muse once more. As you pump on your knees, I want our fuck-cries to haunt your cum.

I want your remembering to be a knowing – a certainty of what Pleasure we are together. No doubts, no second-guessing, no faint-hope clause every time you see my name or embrace me. Because again, I am wet. Here and now. For all of you.

As I Must,

Lola xo

the anatomy of being…

I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know that there’s nothing but light when I see you.

— Shinji Moon —


how to attract a conscious/ evolved man…


There is no coming to consciousness without pain.
People will do anything, no matter how absurd,
in order to avoid facing their own soul.
One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light,
but by making the darkness conscious.

— C.G. Jung —


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