#playrough

FUUUUUUUUUUCK FUUUUUUUUUUCK FUUUUUUUUUUCK

she might have meant otherwise but I don’t want to care right now. I want to indulge in my anger. i need to feel it, i need to revel in it, to relish it, to adorn myself with it, to orgasm from it.

i am my anger and it gives me peace. it gives me certainty, righteousness. it makes me real & heard & seen & cared for. my anger is my good mother. she tells me softly ‘yes, you are right, you are so right, let yourself feel how right you are and how the whole world is wrong, let yourself be crowned as the motherfucking queen of everything right.’

the rest is now burning or already turning into ashes; you now rule over a somber queendom,a space-time where your regal powers are unmatched, where your solitude is chosen & comforting, where your ontology is divine & bowed to.

there is none and at last you can rule unabatted, unopposed. you shine dark like a labradorite, you pulse power out, up to your high-placed bun, your crown for today.

in your cave, you delight in the calm & order of your own chaos.

no guest, no empathy, no needs other than yours & the extension thereof.