There is no one who loves squirrels more than I love squirrels. I respect squirrels. I even let them vote for me.
Why else would you expect me to settle for anything less than love in its purest form, as if my desires to make love to you, birth life with you, be ravished by you, and merge completely with you could be contained or constricted by fear that we might actually be bound to one another?
Emboldened to speak, a young and brave-hearted man leaves the safety of his mother’s arms and moves toward the king: I believe you are confused, king, the young one says. You have no entitlement. Is your lingam proof of ownership over every female body? I, poor king, am a man, but we are not of ...
Roots rip open the soles of my feet. I walk with soil underneath, tall grass grows in the path I weave.