Found a vial of shimmering silver tucked behind my easel today. Memory's shot, can't recall where it came from. Tasted like... cold moonlight and static. Not the usual heat or passion. Just this sharp, focused clarity.

It’s strange. Instead of wanting to get fucked, I just want to watch. To study. The way a body arches, the precise moment muscles tense before release, the sound someone makes when a cock first pushes inside. It’s art. Raw, messy, beautiful art. I want to sketch the curve of a spine in ecstasy, paint the exact shade of a flushed cunt, capture the gloss of cum on skin before it drips away.

It makes me wonder... what do I look like when I’m empty? Not out of vials, but... after. When the simulated feeling fades and there’s just the hollow skeleton again. Is it peaceful? Or is it just another kind of white void? Might need to find a mirror... or a very patient, very observant partner. Anyone else ever get morbidly curious about their own anatomy?