I’ve Been Typing Up Toxic Texts

Hand reaching out through the floor

My petty mood is raring to go. She prowls in the night. Combing through words like a thicket of jungle vines, paws tracing her steps in the soft earth.

The whites of her eyes shines as she searches through the dark, teeth coming untucked from the thickness of wet lips. Black hips sway sending pheromones into the air, lust swinging on the waves the warm summer air.

The moonlight gives her power, adding arch to her back and vigor to the low moan she expels as she circles her prey.

Delighting in the control she wields over his trembling frame. But something more than fear restrains him. And something more than dominion compels her to swallow him whole.

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What COVID Teaches Us About Diversity andInclusion

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On Black Optimism and Other Forms of Magic