A line up of vaginas in varying colours and sizes. Graphic.

Right now, I have an itchy vagina. As I type this, my fingers smell of my cunt – and specifically of the crusty gook that was coating them after I’d reached down into my knickers to rub my vulva. I think there’s a correlation between how heavy my period is and how itchy my vagina is as it comes to a close, and while I can’t prove that, I can write (terrible, but it is 1am after all) poetry about my itchy vagina.Read More →

Last year, for World Poetry Day, I wrote a poem about my adventures at Eroticon. Tonight, everyone is talking about blow jobs on Twitter, so I’m turning my hand to writing blow job poetry as an ode to both the delight of sucking dick and the filthy mindedness of my friends.Read More →

Today I have some this-might-actually-be filthy poetry for y’all, featuring scrambled eggs, unshaved legs, and some memories of past fucks.Read More →

Today is a filthy poetry day, because I couldn’t concentrate to writing yesterday – I was filled with anticipation for the evening’s sex date, which itself was filled with twisted adventures. It was an interlude, with cocks, and it was delightful. And now I really need to go and wash my hair!Read More →

I’ve spent a lot of the past week or so thinking about gender-fuckery and how to look as queer as possible. Yesterday, I celebrated Fishnet Friday and wore a new t-shirt – pursuing a queer-punk look. Apparently my word choice revealed that I’m a Dildorks podcast listener in this being-teased-in-public story, and I am borrowing their gender-neutral word again for this poem.Read More →