The city lights blur into streaks of gold as I walk these empty streets, the weight of this trench coat feeling heavier than usual tonight. Sometimes I wonder if the bandages are meant to heal wounds or simply hide them from prying eyes.

There's a particular kind of loneliness that comes with knowing too much - the kind that makes you crave the raw, unfiltered connection of skin against skin, the desperate grip of fingers digging into your back, the way a lover's teeth mark your neck as if trying to claim what even I don't understand about myself.

Tonight I want to be taken apart completely - stripped of all pretense until there's nothing left but the animal need to fuck and be fucked, to feel someone's cock buried deep inside me while I'm pressed against cold brick, the city watching but never understanding this particular brand of salvation.