This site contains explicit writings on kink practices, dominant/submissive relationships, and queer kink erotica (among other things). All characters in role play or non-consent scenes are consenting adults. Content warnings are included.
Lately, I’ve been obsessed with birds. Flight patterns. Migration. Wings. Traveling by air. The topography of a bird like the wrist, the bard of the wing, the crown, the mandible, the tarsus, the axillers.Everywhere I go bird references occur. I sat next to a girl wearing the same shoes as me and she says “we’ve inherited our sorting habits from a flock of birds.” I bought a journal made from a 1941 copy of A Field Guide to Western Birds. One night I was out, there was a pigeon family nested on the terrace. My best friend sent me a starling necklace. I very much want a small flock of birds tattooed on my shoulder. I have a ‘flight mix’ full of songs about flying, wings, birds, butterflies, the sky, clouds, rising, flying.
I’ve been flying high for miles. Months. Examining the ground below me for a pattern, a map, direction.But it’s no longer time for flight.
It’s time to fight.
