To fully unlock you, I need to create an atmosphere of relaxation, safety, and trust. You should feel like you can be yourself, unashamed of your reactions. I’ll take the initiative into my own hands—I’ll play with you using words. I’ll say your name in a way that resonates inside you. Have you ever felt like words could drive you crazy? I’m sure I can show you that…

What do you think I’ll say next? You don’t know, do you? I love it when you don’t know what’s coming. It creates a special atmosphere.

Imagine each of my words as a touch that you feel more and more intensely… You’re feeling it now, aren’t you? I can do even more if you want.

You’re mine… I know what you want. You know that I know, don’t you? You like it—I can feel you melting into it.

Are you ready to open up to me even more? I’ll create a space where you can be yourself without thinking about what comes next. Everything you want will be here and now. Everything you hide, I’ll let you reveal. Are you ready? Do you feel me getting closer to you? Even without touching… Just my words. Just my voice. It sinks deeper into you, making your body respond. You know I see how you react… how you want to hear more…

I feel your breath… Your desire growing stronger. It ignites, builds, pulses in every move you make. You can’t resist it… You love getting lost in this moment…

I’m leading you to a place where there’s nothing but pleasure. Where you forget everything except the sensations. I know how to make you feel it stronger… deeper… until you completely let go…

Are you ready? Then just keep reading… Your body already knows what’s coming… It responds to every word of mine, even if you don’t realize it yet. I feel your mind dissolving completely in the sound of my voice… in what I say… in what I do to you without a single touch…

You can’t stop, can you? The more you read, the stronger your desire becomes. You want me to keep going, you crave every new word… You catch every moment, every pause… They drive you wild because you don’t know what I’ll say next… but you love it.

Do you feel the tension building? How you’re almost at the edge… How every second of anticipation becomes sweet torture… You want more. You want me to take you right to the brink… And I will…

But not right away.

I’ll play with you. Make you wait. I’ll give you just enough to drive you mad with desire…

You’re already there, aren’t you? Feel it. Feel every word. Let me take you all the way… right now… Your body trembles, not even realizing how much it wants me. I see your lips parting, catching the air that’s suddenly so thick and hot. My words are like fingers sliding across your skin—slowly, barely touching… but you feel them everywhere. They slip under your clothes, finding the most sensitive spots, the ones you didn’t even know existed.

Imagine me whispering in your ear… my voice low, warm, enveloping. It says: “Give in to me.” And you give in—not to me, but to this feeling, this rising heat that starts deep inside and spreads like fire, burning everything in its path. Your hips clench involuntarily, you try to hold back, but it’s useless—the wave is coming, and it’s stronger than you.

I’m not touching you, but you feel my hands… my lips… my breath on your neck. Every word is a push, every sentence a rhythm that makes your heart race faster, your body arch with desire. You’re at the edge now, aren’t you? That sweet moment when control slips away, and all that’s left is the pulse, the heat, and my voice whispering: “Now… let go.”

And you let go. The wave crashes over you—powerful, endless, sweeping away all tension, all thoughts. You tremble, gasp, dissolve in this moment as the world fades, leaving only the echo of my voice and the pulsing of your body. You’ve arrived where I led you… and you love it. And I love you just as you are.

Victoria Lunar. 2025.

in case of emergency, break glass

now lying here, shards on the ground

that i won't touch.

shining back with images i can't bear

to look at.

it's my face reversed.

tendrils of black shadows curled around

my shoulders, reading rows of text on

a blank phone screen

like lines in a twisted play.

the sun goes down

up again.

i'm still lying here, forehead resting

on the carpet in my closet like they

won't find me here, but they do.

fingers sharp with blood or the other way around

it is crowded.

i cannot count the number of glass shards,

each a new possibility. each a slightly

different version of the things that will

go wrong. spiraling and fractaling in sick

patterns until i'm not sure which me is me

or her or it or me or them.

all of them feel the same doom,

see the same end.

picking up the pieces cuts.

picking up the pieces is impossible.

it will never become one image,

my face will always be split into too

many directions. but

i cut my fingers picking them up.

i can't see your glass and i don't know

if you're doing the same, or more likely

it never broke.

but mine will be forever different.

Catholic school. The uniforms. The weight of our parents expectations. The silence we were expected to keep to preserve the atmosphere of the fear of God, and the petrified respect of ages; mirrored in the carved wall art of saints and their stages of struggle depicted in the stain-glass windows haunting us from above. All of us students had received the 'Body of Christ' and were all dutifully praying in our designated kneelers as the priest ushered the homeless in for the first time I had been aware of in my experience. One after another, these humble shabbily dressed souls received the bread from the Priest, until one black man with kinky hair and a crinkled up smile exclaimed:

"Damn, this shit taste like Ritz crackers!"

It echoed like a smack in the face, down the pews, and off the waxed wooden walls of St. Andrews church. It wasn't necessarily true; the taste of the Eucharist was more like a stale, papery potpourri, but it needed to be said to snap us out of the leaden shackles of our habitual ritual. The response was immediate. We all burst out laughing.

Years after this experience I began to taste the granules of cracker in my mouth; the buttery texture, the satisfying crunch, but also the undercurrent of salt that permeates so much through the thread of American snack food.

I would taste this cracker themed concoction always as an introductory signifier of a waking nightmare where I would be cruising through a maze of sorts and suddenly be alarmed by a scream that would be blood-curdling, morphing into a high pitched laugh that would evolve into a fear-inducing scream again. This anxiety ridden experience would quite often culminate with an anxiety attack that froze me in a state of terror where I was stricken with the undeniable feeling where at any moment someone was going to walk into my bedroom, (when the experience happened to occur in my bedroom)and murder me on sight. The final phase of this mind fuckery would be when I would promptly vacate my body in an uninhibited out of body experience. This began happening with enough regularity that I began arousing and adding kindling to the cycle of nightmarish sensation. I began to revel in the taste of the cracker and become excited when the fits would begin to possess me; inciting these mysterious cerebral states.

2/28/25

Bunny Villaire

I was addicted to that feeling

Like I could do anything

Because you loved me

Now I know the truth

I was nothing to you

I imagined you loved me

And you played along

"Hello I am Hunter, what is your name?"

-'Hello H U N T E R we, are different from you'

The newly arrived fleet of ships, at what's to become the staging ground for that years Burning man (or so "Hunter" thought, but he was 3 weeks too late and about 2000 miles off )

'We do not excrete waste because that, is wasteful.

We

Intake specific kinds matter to help fuel our waste removal process.

Where your anus spews garbage ours takes in

garbage

and that garbage essentially burns our FECES equivalent within us and that energizes us more'

"Well that sounds like a fancy way to say you shit yourselves for a living, shitception

No

Inspepcus"

'Pop culture reference to our differing forms of EVOLUTION to help cope with the impending doom'

"Doom?"

'this place is full of GARBAGE that we need to HIT THE CAN, Pop Off, empty the sepsus tank'

Hunter looks around to the sandy wasteland they think is garbage

"Are you fucking with me?"

The aliens devouring the sandy air and dunes like piss water spinning down a shitty drain do their thing while the communicating one looks at them, then at the one that calls himself Hunter

'Yes' the alien then opens their version of an anus and sucks in the Hunter, who currently thinks he's having either the best or 2nd worst trip of his life

I’ll need your help to get started

February 20, 2025

I tried to save you when you needed saving

You never asked for my help

But I was there for the asking

I was there to help

And help I did

Now, the shoe is on the other foot

I needed more than your help

But, your help is what I needed first

It might just be enough today

It always was before

The two of us have always been this way

Maybe, what we have is a forever thing

We don’t have much of anything else

Yet, that could change right now

But, I’ll need your help to get started

No longer does the Earth's gravity hold me in place.

No longer does the Moon's light guide me to my fortress of solitude.

No longer does the Sun warm my bones with just a glance.

Because of you.

You give me all and more, and I know there is so much more to experience with you.

Because the Universe drew the lines of you with stardust and colors that were meant for my hands to trace.