On her journey back home from Vienna to Berlin, Suzzy recounted and wrote about her last night encounter in her diary. Her pussy still throbbing from the smashing "Last night, he was in the bathroom doing something, setting up something,...

As you gaze       and come to recognize            the black fire within me,                and realize you're now claimed,   you say, "no gothic rose       can be dominated!        ...

The lady of sorrow  does not possess a name. For the sake of this poem, I will call her: Lady Sorrow.   There's another time in another place, where she sat deep between the slopes of a ravine.    It was overcast,  and so was the spirit in her eyes. Where...

tranquility in stonedon't make we weep anymoresadness in sorrow for the morrowthe dark in me quiverstrembling with losssacred understanding I am alteredwithin the bleak witheredmy lightshine shrinks in the shadowsthen evolves becoming britghtermy soul loves whollyso it is no...