From the Archive: Unbound
It’s always been ground glass, scraping against my insides. I imagine a light held to the place where I open would illuminate a mess of torn flesh, throbbing red-wet.
...moreBecome a Rumpus Member
Join NOW!It’s always been ground glass, scraping against my insides. I imagine a light held to the place where I open would illuminate a mess of torn flesh, throbbing red-wet.
...moreTrauma steals meaning and expression. BDSM and writing create them.
...moreI wanted to uncover the nest of wires comprising my gender identity and describe its complicated mass.
...moreThey say you can take the girl out of the dungeon, but you can’t take the dungeon out of the girl.
...more