Under my bed sheets I’m trembling. The cold sweat woke me up. My head is spinning, tears are dripping down my face. I try to get up but my legs aren’t working. I can’t even control my own body. My mind wanders as my vision turns to monochrome. I see her face as if she’s… Continue reading .15 wet dreams (again)
Why am I ‘Vegan’? Why do I reject the social normality of eating animal flesh and produce? Why is it so important to me to be different and awkward? Why even does this concept make me awkward to be with? and why is it so awkward for me too? For us humans it’s normal to… Continue reading .14 why am I ‘Vegan’?
The candle flickers by the fireplace, It’s dark and cold. Goosebumps all over my naked body. It’s stings as I pull back my foreskin, eyes glued to my screen. The fingers on one hand scrolling back and forth between pages As the other hand gently massages my hard cock. The light flashes illuminating my pink… Continue reading .13 shame
He dreams of fishnets, supple thighs and her tongue against the head of his erection. He imagines her hard nipples between his fingers as he squeezes her small breasts. He likes them small. Closing his eyes, it’s all too vivid and filthy as bodily fluids cover each other’s bodies And her back arches as she… Continue reading .12 wet dreams
I’m depressed, in a rut, bored or whatever. I’m depressed. Outside of the dull repetition of life I’m stuck with my imagination- my perverted mind. The permanent sweat patches stain my bed from lack of sleep and masturbation… at least three times a day. I can’t stop… I’m perverted. I’m depressed. I crave the touch… Continue reading .11 depression and desire
Tapping my Oyster I pass through the gates, head down craving a shot of caffeine and a cigarette. I spy the Dr Martens, slightly warn and her pink socks poking through the top. I raise my eyes and fall in love. I fall in love with her style, so casual yet so fashionable. From the… Continue reading .10 girl on the overground. (long time no see)
“My favourite is Marlboro, have you tried before?” asked father suddenly, as he took his pouch of tobacco from a jacket pocket. I replied that I had indeed tried it, to which father retorted “I should hope you haven’t been smoking, if you have been, I’d have to stop talking to you out of disappointment.”… Continue reading .9 diary one