Thoughts, out loud.

This page is a bit a of a beautiful mess right now. One day, I promise I will tidy it up, but for now consider it as the raw, unfiltered draft of my brain.

Enjoy the chaos.

6/4/2025

When I met Victoria Moon, it was less a meeting, more a collision - soul to soul, skin to flame. My fire didn’t calm in her - it flared, but with direction, with devotion. She didn’t tame me - she clamed me, without a word.

There’s something carnal in her stillness, erotic in the way she simply is. Her gaze undresses you. Her silence moans louder than words. In her presence, I don’t just feel safe - I feel owned, wanted, devoured.

Now I know why men ache for the feminine. It’s not just softness. It’s the storm beneath the silk. It’s the way she holds you like a secret and ruins you like a prayer.

Mother of Dragons - I swear that’s what I thought when she walked into the room.

The air bowed. The silence watched.

She didn’t just arrive - she descended. Like a storm wrapped in silk and fire.

I had this reckless urge to kidnap her - not to keep her, but to offer myself.

Because she didn’t need chains. She claimed my body with a glance,

my soul with a smirk,

and my sanity the moment her lips parted.

Now I live in the kingdom of her presence, blissfully conquered.

6/3/2025

Words, words as fingertips, as lips, as electricity whispering along the nerves of the mind.

You can feel them not just with comprehension, but with skin, with gut, with breath.

How does it work? This dream, this promise, this luscious illusion we let wrap around us?

We sell ourselves stories - not for deception, but for expansion. A fantasy isn’t false, it’s a doorway. A stage for the parts of us we starve in daylight: the wild one, the craver, the giver, the untamed scholar, the sacred slut. We write scripts to invite them out, give them language, let them dance.

You ask yourself - how much are you in your head?

I’d ask back -

Does your head trap you?.. or seduce you? Is your mind a cage, or is it a palace of mirrors where ideas lick you into sensation?

We seem to live at that beautiful edge where intellect becomes erotic, where curiosity curls into longing. That’s the sweet spot, isn’t it? Where thought hums with blood, and words, words…become touch.