photo: SexArt

Eden knows anything goes because everything comes down to nothing at all.

Eden hates this class. Captive to the minutiae of cinema studies, she follows the methodic clicks of the lecture. Each slide comes thick and fast.

Her heart is heavy. Her eyes are vacant. She is no stranger to this campus and the errands of tutelage. Undergrads colour the autumn grounds…

photo: SexArt

If only those hands could talk.

Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit. Maybe we’ll be laughing about even these things in the future…

The slogan should spur Eden to build a brave new world, brick by brick, but it doesn’t. People are hopeless. They endow magnates and bankrupt those who pay it forward. Those who are…

photo: SexArt

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve wanted someone like I want you.”

No one likes Eden.

She’s always known it.

She knows more when she eyes the labourers along the wharf.

The breeze carries a lick of saltwater over the pier. Shelled wood planks cleave to a sandy dock that was once a rainbow of varnished hues. Most know it’s seen better…

photo: SexArt

Tonight, she craves a woman’s touch.

Lola has wide hips, legs overshadowed by voluminous thighs; and a heart ribbed within a cage affixed to a column that snakes to her posterior. Every crook and crevice is alight with a flare as high as noon: incisive and wakeful by day as the moon keeps her secrets.


Fallen Kittie🐾

Critic and creator ♥

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