1920x1080 HD Every single morning, it’s me. The very first thought that blooms in your foggy, waking mind isn’t the sun or the day ahead… it’s the curve of my body, the echo of my voice, the specific, aching way you crave my attention. You’re addicted, and I’ve never felt more worshipped. You feel me in the static of your shower, the ache in your gut when you check your phone hoping I have spoken. You stroke yourself desperate and leaky, and it is never just your own hand – it is me, wrapped around you, my voice in your ear, my phantom weight pressing you down. I dance through your consciousness like I own the rhythm, because I do. I know exactly how starved you get. I know the way your catches when I finally grant you a crumb of attention. Keeping you on this edge is effortless.
