This is a cleansing period.

A time to clean out old wounds,

Dirty from neglect.

A time to allow the familiar sting to resurface

So that it can heal properly this time.



It’s not that serious
I’ve survived
Physically, I’ve survived
That’s another story
But its not that serious
It’s really not that bad
At least that’s what I keep telling myself
As I put my rose-tinted glasses on
And kick back

This is not Sexual!


Hey yall!…. punks.

I’ve set sail on a new artistic adventure: I’ve made a zine!

Titled “This is not Sexual,” this informational illustrated zine is on a mission to desexualize the naked body, because all a naked body is … is naked.

Want one? Order one or some for free here!

The Asexual Journal

Hey yall….whoever you are…

Recently, I’ve contributed some of my written and artistic work to the 4th issue of the Asexual Journal.

The Asexual Journal is a culmination of work by, or about, the asexual experience. all put together by the wonderful Michael Paramo.

Check out the 4th issues of the Asexual Journal here.


I See You

You enter the room
Everyone sees you
From top to bottom
They see you
Your lips
Your chest
Your waist
Your legs
They see you
They want you
They crave you

I see you
I admire you
With my eyes
I take in every inch of your body
From top to bottom
Your lips
Your chest
Your waist
Your legs
I see you
But I don’t want you
I don’t crave you
At least
Not like they do
Not how they want you
Not how they crave you

They see you
They want you
From top to bottom
They want you
They want to taste you
Lick you
Please you
Have you
Have you lips
Your chest
Your waist
Your legs
They want you
All of you

I see you
And I don’t want you
And I don’t crave you
But I wish I did
I wish I could want you like that
I wish I could crave you like that
I want to want you
I crave to crave you
I see what they see
And I want to want that
But I can’t
I cant want
I cant crave
But I wish I could
I wish I could love you the way you know love
A love that want you
A love that craves you
But I cant.

Sexual Performance (updated)


To other it’s instinct;

It’s natural.

But to me,

It’s a performance:

Right hand down your back,

Left hand up your thigh,

I lick you here,

Kiss you there,

You moan,



After years of practice

I’ve mastered the role;

I am a seasoned sexual performer:

I pull you close,

Part your legs,

Lick you there,

Kiss you here,

You moan,



You almost believe me;

You do believe me.

You melt in my hands,

Begging for more:

More licks,

More kisses,

More passion,

More sex.


But if you look close enough

You’ll see past the illusion.

You’ll see how I hesitate,

How rigid my movements are as I reach for you.


If you look close enough,

And see past the illusion,

You might think I lack a drive.

You might think I have no passion;

No true passion.

That my hesitation and my rigidness are a sign of disinterest;

Disinterested in you,

In your body,

In this moment,

This beautiful moment.


I am a sexual actor

And my movements may seem methodical

Well calculated

Carefully thought out

And they are

I plan my every move

Track your reaction

And formulate a proper response

And though I may not receive pleasure

for the act itself

I get the biggest joy from seeing you

Enjoy the show.