Confessions of...

The word of the day is Zot. It’s onomatopoeia, usually concerning the sound of electricity. It is officially, in the court of D, to be associated with tazers and transporting things (people, especially without clothing) instantaneously from place to place.

Weariness balances my heart, hovering precariously between lucid dreams and sleepy nightmares. I’ve a lot of work to do, materially, and so I’m home to do it. My left arm still aches with the shot, and my abdomen is beginning to cry out in confusion with the introduction of the chemical, which, in theory, will deprive me of my good and human power to breed for somewhere around three months.

~And mad love… is religion enough… for my heart.~