When nights become days,

sleep is a luxury,

showers become chores,

and you look at yourself in the mirror,


Trembling because this is not you,

your face is worn, your eyes hollow.

And you rub rub rub,

and he rubs rubs rubs,

and your cunt says no.

When words become a blur,

and inspiration a distant memory,

you freeze and disconnect.

When anxiety tickles every corner of your mind,

and you want to run away,

but there is nowhere to go.

You stay.

Unshaven, and trashy,

fleeting beauty captured in a moment of desperate fight.


Because, whatever.

Sinful Sunday

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6 Responses

  1. sub-Bee says:

    This is fabulous, sometimes you have to kick back and be proudly you.

  2. slave sindee says:

    lovely image

  3. Molly says:

    There is something so strident and powerful about you in this image


  4. This is such an incredibly raw image. Brilliant!
    ~ Marie

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