If it’s a surprise that I get jealous easily, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Hi, I’m Dootsie. Now please don’t look away.


I suffer so much from wanting it all. I want the biting sting, but I also crave sweetness.  Saccharine promises and breathless confessions across red, raw flesh.  Studded kisses and barbed sighs, hugs that bind and nails into delicate skin.  Grating, grinding, abrasive edges around soft, gentle and simple. I want my sweetness rough.

A History

We were talking about the little digital breadcrumbs we leave across the internet, and I realized just how many places I’ve sprinkled little pieces of myself only to abandon them for greener pastures.  I began my life on the internet with a queer little WYSIWYG website builder in the middle of nowhere, blogging my thoughts … More A History


She keeps thinking of pretty words and phrases that suit the situation perfectly, but gets a little embarrassed and pushes them under the rug with sheepish little grins.  She’d say the ways that you make her sigh, but putting them to text would stifle them completely and leave her feeling quite remiss.  So she carries … More Shh!

Talking it Out

I’ve been sort of slowing and begrudgingly begun talking it all out with myself.  Why I left, why I’m starting my life as I am.  All of the things I swept under the rug, all the things I pushed into the closet to make things okay. I felt like everything had to be okay. I … More Talking it Out

A Brief Realization

I keep having these unfortunately-timed moments of introspection.  I’m realizing that I really am a terrible person and that I should be unspeakably grateful for anyone’s willingness to tolerate me as I am.  And I should be more forgiving for those moments when anyone is unwilling to tolerate me as I am.  That I shouldn’t … More A Brief Realization

Nothing New

There’s nothing new in consonants and cut-off sounds hanging limply on night winds, eyelids drawn shut against decisions not yet named. There is nothing unusual in shivering skin touching underneath blankets in winter, protected against unforgiving snow, nor in naked bodies prone seven inches apart never really reaching the one thing they need.


my lips are buzzing tingling with the tension of faded muscle memory aching to once more feel fingertips and feverish pressing and parting and the desperate delighted hum of want