Alice

August 26, 2026

Sequestered in absentia, notes of wander beckoned notice like the blooded claim of an overtly familiar bite. Too tarnished to maintain an omniscience, her need began The Unraveling. Each tug. Every touch. All sensation became a ripened prayer to yearning's phantom dismemberment, and the obligatory recycling mandated when learning to walk on two broken feet.

—

I’m working on a book of erotic poetry. I thought I'd pen some pieces to wander along beside it and wet the appetite. Those who know my writing side well know that I loathe creating titles for poetry. Titles for books are quite exciting, on the otherhand. I already know what this one will be.