Loss

I never used to cry, but now, I dry at the drop of the hat. Here’s what’s made me cry the last couple of days.

I use dominance and submission to achieve an elusive sense of safety.

Impermanence is the one constant. And Marina has reminded me of this.

Maybe Marina isn’t so brutal and sadistic after all…. Maybe I am the brutal, sadistic one.

A thirteen-year-old boy, a Hungarian village girl, and everything I’ve ever failed to do with women, written in dust.

I’m in pain, with little hope of relief. Ever. And it seems to be producing some intense emotions in me.

She never once tripped the wire of my fragile desire, and now she’s gone.