"Sherlock Holmes, you are a back-stabbing, heartless, manipulative bastard." "And you, as it turns out, are a grasping, opportunistic, publicity-hungry tabloid whore." "So we’re good, then?" "Yeah, of course."
I’m exhausted. I no longer wish to imagine your hands tracing the contour of my frame. Dominate me. Wake my body from the unconscious wasteland it has become. Please, climb inside of me and plant your presence.