The Locus of Chaos

     In my experience, forgiveness is something akin to a revelation. Forgiveness is bestowed upon me and expanded within me. It is through the grace of God that I am able to forgive, as I find myself unable to evoke the same response within me of my own accord.       When I have been wronged, the feelings of acrid resentment and the hot sting of shame, a hardening in my throat, and a strong undercurrent of fear begin to fester within me. My archaic lizard brain goes into overdrive, flooding my veins with adrenaline and cortisol. Then I feel the nauseating waves of shame; how could I have been so stupid? Why did I allow this to happen? How quickly this fear and shame mutates into rage.      There have been many nights where I’ve wanted to kill you. I want to believe that I would be capable of doing it myself. I want your rotting teeth ripped out one by one. I want your genitals shoved into a meat grinder. I want your fat white thighs sl...

I understand that positivity is not necessarily “high vibration” in and of itself, especially if it is feigned or false - TRUTH is always of the highest cosmic order. Not cynicism, solipsism, navel-gazing, and “negativity” for its own sake, but plain, unfettered honesty. When we reveal ourselves in ways that truly matter and bear witness when others do the same, then our image and likeness of God becomes even clearer, more defined. Those who speak and live truthfully are the most remarkably radiant.  

Lord I am grateful but understand that I often find myself wondering whether I was ever really meant to be Eva as I exist today right now but instead inchoate primordial Eva living in the lush density of an island jungle with my lover having frequent sex and swimming and dancing and eating fruits and organ meats all day long! They say Heaven is a mindset and how you conceptualize it and if that’s true than please Lord when this soul exits this body and says goodbye to this strange dreamlike haze that is life on earth I humbly ask you to return me back to where I belong… deep in the etheric tropical jungle!  

I’m slowly rotating my hips and staring at him. It’s him and only him, always has been. Even before we met. I’m on fire; if you were to touch me right now, you would get burned. My desire is violent. My breasts are full and throbbing, I’m shaking and sweating. Creating friction is quick and easy, but not nearly as satisfying as when he’s inside of me. I never truly came so much, so hard, so quickly before that fated day. I bit his neck. I needed his blood in my mouth. Nobody has ever wanted that man more than me, his children more than me. I worship his cock because it saved me; I’m neurotic without it. I begged him to finish inside while I writhed around on top of him, possessed by Eros. Please god, please cum in me.  Sex without love is not sex, it’s meaningless masturbation; my infinite, undying love for him is the only reason I am able to have sex in the first place. Sex is just as innocent and romantic as it is fiery and passionate. Sex brings me to tears. It’s the reason I wa...

“Almost every woman I have ever met has a secret belief that she is just on the edge of madness . . . that she must be on guard constantly against ‘losing control’ — of her temper, of her appetite, of her sexuality, of her feelings, of her ambition, of her secret fantasies, of her mind”.     - Elana Dykewomon. I am almost certain that I’d be capable of torture or murder. That’s always been a given for me, never a mystery. What disturbs me, however, is how much glee arises when I allow myself to fantasize about it… that I would, in fact, enjoy violently murdering and torturing certain people. Not in a psychosexual way, per se, but purely from a place of fear, envy, and revenge. Revenge most of all. I can’t go in depth about my murderous fantasies; I don’t want to shock and offend too much, nor excite myself in a way that genuinely frightens me. To say nothing of morality, it makes perfect sense for us to kill each other; we’re animals after all. I don’t seek to self-correct my ...

I am both his lover and his devotee. Once during prayer, I freudian slipped and said his name when I was addressing God. Through his love, my spirit expands and my doubts eroded. To him, I am eternally devoted.

My pussy is both a portal to Heaven and a daemonic, carnivorous lotus. I constrict and devour his cock with it. I take great care of it, treat it with necessary reverence. Boric acid and probiotics in between menstruation. Cranberry and pineapple juice. Fingers along the inside while I pray, rubbing gently and then furiously until I release. A few nights ago, I felt the presence of an angel during this nightly meditation and I cried.