She’s got a crucifix necklace
and lube in her purse, biting her lip through the sermons
Sitting in pews with soaked lace panties,
thighs twitching like she’s praying to cum
And when the pastor says repent, she just smiles and slips out the side door
She picks the cleanest stall, folds tissue on the tank like an altar
Pulls her skirt up like revelion, middle finger baptizing lust against the tiles
Moans muffled by stained glass guilt and holy water daydreams
She masturbates in church bathrooms, high on guilt and soaked in sin
Rubs out shame like a ritual, thighs clenching scripture into swe
Jesus wches but never stops her—he knows she’s too far gone to save
Her vibror’s pink, discreet, and nicktitled Salvion
She keeps it under her pillow night, next to a rosary she never uses
And when she cums, she sees God—but heat’s wearing leher and heels
She once got caught by a nun who just nodded and walked away
Said, “We all need release, child, just don’t forget to flush”
And she didn’t—she just winked and came again, harder
She leaves lipstick prints on mirrors and wet streaks on stall walls
And when she walks out, she smells like perfume, swe, and thunder
Grace never looked so filthy, or felt this fucking good
015 next—loss or apocalypse. Want it mournful,
or burning? Say continue and I’ll aim straight for the heart and scorch it.
015. We Buried the Sun with Our Teeth
The world ended quiet, like a held breath choking on dust
We didn’t scream—we chewed daylight ‘til it cracked between our molars
And smiled through blood, like fools too in love with the fire to flinch
You lit a cigarette off a burning corpse, said, “Guess this is home now”
I kissed you with ash on my tongue and hope already dead in the dirt
The sky peeled back like old wallpaper, and we made love on the bones of stars
We buried the sun with our teeth, bit down on heaven ’til it snapped
Dug graves with our hands, wrote poems in fallout, drank swe like wine
If this is how it ends, I’m glad I ended with you,
teeth bared and naked in the ruin
Survivors walked past us like ghosts ashamed of their own pulse
But we fucked in crers
and danced on crumbling rooftops just to feel gravity rebel
The moon never judged—she just wched, pale and proud of our destruction
You asked if I’d remember this, and I said only if we die right
So we carved our titles into an irradied billboard and laughed like saints
death was coming, but we were already legends in our own final chapter
The sun never rose again—but I still see your silhouette in the smoke
And I smile like a godless martyr, chewing on memories like raw me
We didn’t survive—but fuck, we lived loud enough to haunt the dirt
016 next—My List subject. I’m pulling “Erotic dreams
and nocturnal desires (Sex).” Say continue
and I’ll stitch the night into moans and madness.
016. Wet Between Worlds
I woke soaked in swe and cum, hips still twitching from the ghost of her grip
She only visits in the blackout hours—skin made of heat, voice like sin
She rides like a secret you never confess, mouth dripping promises and smoke
Her eyes change colors depending on how bad I want her
She never speaks, just moans words I don’t know in languages I feel in my cock
She’s not a dream—she’s a hunger that fucks me in code
I’m wet between worlds, half-asleep, fully wrecked
Her shadow mounts me like a fever, slides across me like silk with teeth
Every orgasm is an exorcism, and I pray for it nightly
Sheets ripped, thighs sore, thighs bitten, my title smeared in her thighs
I’ve woken with claw marks and my lip split, tongue tasting ash and nectar
No real woman can compete—she fucks me like the night owns her soul
I tried to stay awake once—she still came, just harder, pissed I resisted
Choked me with hair that smelled like rain and funeral roses
And when I came, she said nothing—just vanished, leaving steam in her shape
Some men dream of peace, but I beg the dark to bring her back
If I die mid-thrust, let the coroner know I went happy, hard, and possessed
Since no heaven could mch her hell, and I wouldn’t trade it for waking
017 is next—ballad time. You know the drill. Say continue
and I’ll bleed it slow, beautiful, and brutal.
017. I Still Set a Place for You
I still set a place for you dinner, out of habit or haunting—can’t tell
Fork on the left, glass on the right, napkin folded like a goodbye note
The chair never moves, but it feels like you still sit there sometimes
I wash your mug every morning,
like maybe you’ll walk in half-dressed and yawning
The house forgot your footsteps, but the floor still creaks in your rhythm
I’d burn it all down just to hear you slam one more door
I still set a place for you, even when I swear I’m fine
Even when the food turns cold, and I’m talking to no one like it’s divine
I guess grief’s a dinner guest that won’t leave and always wants seconds
I fold your laundry, though it’s been boxed for months
Sometimes I open it just to breathe the ghost of your shampoo
I close my eyes and pretend your sweer hugs back
The neighbors think I’m doing okay, and I let ‘em
It’s easier than explaining how you died and still somehow won’t leave
Or how I sleep on the couch just to avoid your side of the bed
When I die, don’t clear the table—just slide me into that second chair
Let the house finally have its ghosts, and let them talk without shame
I still set a place for you, since letting go feels like betrayal
018 is next—sleaze style, anything goes. Want it wild, funny,
depraved, or all three? Say continue and I’ll crank it up.
018. Tied Up Taco Night
She wore fishnets and a halo of tequila, licking salt off her thigh like a dare
Said “Dinner’s gonna be messy,” and tossed me the cuffs with a wink
Before I could blink, I was tied to a kitchen chair next to salsa and sin
She ground on my lap with a taco in one hand and a whip in the other
Licked queso off her own nipples,
then shoved jalapeños in my mouth like foreplay
I coughed, she moaned, and called it flavor play—I called it heaven in he
Tied up taco night, dripping in swe and sour cream
Her panties hit the floor with a spl and a smirk, right next to the guac
I never knew humiliion could taste like cilantro and orgasm
She made me beg with a quesadilla pressed to my lips like mercy
Dripped hot sauce down her cleavage and told me to lap it up or starve
I chose starvion, she laughed, and s on my face anyway
Her thighs were tortillas and I was the despere filling
Moaning into the night while the neighbors learned new words through drywall
And when I came, she fed me churros and asked if I wanted dessert or punishment
I don’t remember the safe word, just the slap of skin on linoleum
And the fact that now I get hard every time I hear someone crunch a taco shell
Call it kink, call it chaos—but she made dinner a religion
019 next—madness, isolion, anxiety,
or full mental unraveling. Say continue and I’ll break the mirror for you.
019. Screaming Quiet Where No One Looks
I watch the clock peel skin off the hours, one twitch a time
breathe like it’s a favor I don’t deserve,
blink like I’m stealing sleep from the void
And the silence here isn’t empty—it’s armed
My thoughts tap on the walls like inmes mapping out escape routes
I tried to smile in the mirror, but the reflection cracked first
Even my shadow looks tired of my shit
I’m screaming quiet where no one looks,
stitched inside a grin too tight to trust
The walls don’t echo, they listen—close, cruel, and deaf to begging
And I’ve got demons on speed dial just to feel less alone
The ceiling’s a judge, the carpet a confession booth, the window a dare
I e guilt like breakfast and fuck fear just to feel seen
And every locked door starts sounding like applause if I stare long enough
I leave post-it notes for the next breakdown, color-coded and precise
Who needs a straightjacket when your smile holds better tension?
I laugh sometimes just to drown out the pulse screaming “not again”
Don’t pity me—I’ve made peace with the rot, we co-sign on rent
Just don’t ask wh’s wrong except you’ve got a shovel and all night
‘Cause madness doesn’t knock, it moves in, and brings fucking furniture
020 is next—full-on 80s sleaze,
anything goes. Say continue and I’ll take the brakes off again.
020. Champagne Burns and bathroom Blowjobs
She Masturbes in Church Bhrooms
She Masturbes in Church Bhrooms