Her Deepness

BradensEye
5 min readJul 30, 2021
Born This Way, Semi-Selfie

Forever probing the depths of turbulent love-making. Besotted by va-va-voom, dehydrated from a lack of French kisses, my contours will typically play with piles of letters to narrow your judgment about the cleaving hemorrhage of my indiscretions. How I wish this was going to be a well-endowed misprint. Some sort of fantasy fiction I whittle away typing to gift the hungry intercourse junkies a salacious zinger. Instead, this is a tumble of truth. Bound with an intimately auric hymn of continuing my therapeutically encouraged adage of writing out my reality for public consumption and possible pummeling. All in stride for it rewiring the secretions of weekly jelly pills I swallow wanting someone else’s life or the uncovering of my nether regions featuring today’s taboo topic on the lustful realms of literal reentry. When it’s equally about the fact that we’ve let our morals slide, as much as what (‘cough, cough,’ whom) we let slide inside of us that aroused the rewind rut. Welcome to Your Majesty, Temptation. Her deepness, nary to be confused by the oceanic idol exercising the same moniker, is defined as fully in action as it is in the mental scooping of her emotional wealth flung against the flesh of witting to unfitting takers.

It drinks in harsh sounds and regrets,

Learn to hear it louder than
Your self ~
Rebecca Dunn, Growth

Y’all ever caught yourselves feeling hormonally challenged? Like you can’t turn off that consistently gushing valve of seeking whatever rush. I’ve got a case of the climax blues screwing me up (which is technically down, except Grammarly says this is the correct usage). I’m dangerously disposed to distorted obsessions of the Adonis variety. An epiphany of quivers has flanked my gait since the sexual revealution of my teenage days. That serenade of honing where evolution shares a slamdunk with revolution of the spiciest kind in the manner of shamelessly bold bodily gumption. Herein, ‘forbidden’ speaks a funny language to me. Mildly, that my verbiage addiction is on par with my habanero appetite for blurring lines when I’m frail with the pressures of lengthy singularity. It reaks off-limits, but broken down insists my examination of its offering: ‘for’ inviting (the definition of ‘bidden’). I mean, really? It seems it’s begging opposition. Hasn’t everyone sought out something in…

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BradensEye

LOVER of life. Especially people, places, philanthropy, pondering, and photography.