Iris Diaries: Folded into Each Other
Knowing you, knowing me...
I know I’m completely, gloriously fucked up when it comes to intimacy. Like, one-person-in-the-whole-damned-world-knows-every-angle-of-me level fucked. And no, I don’t just mean the body, you perv—though yes, they’ve mapped that terrain too. I’m talking soul angles, the jagged bits I don’t even show my reflection.
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About the Creator
Iris Obscura
Do I come across as crass?
Do you find me base?
Am I an intellectual?
Or an effed-up idiot savant spewing nonsense, like... *beep*
Is this even funny?
I suppose not. But, then again, why not?
Read on...
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