Darlings, I gotcha covered.
Darlings, I gotcha covered.
This is perhaps Rob’s most brilliant piece of poetry. Beautiful & powerful.
HEY! It’s not ALL weird tentacles and sassy aardvarks and Trump taking it in the ear, yanno. There’s also the Burn the World trilogy. Available now at the risk-free price of zero buckaroos. I’m all about the giving, sweeties.
This is erotica, friends. There are, at present count, two unplanned but very welcomed babies in the world thanks to my sex scenes.
Try’em, ya might like’em.
As always, packaged with a lovely, no-tell bookcover so if someone gets into your tablet/kindle/ipad, no eyebrows will be raised.
GET SOME, DARLINGS.
In honor of the travel nightmares and family PTSD episodes coming this week for my American friends, 31 Short Horrors is now available to your eyeholes for the gut-wrenching price of FREE.
Stash this sucker in your ipad/kindle/tablet/phone for those awkward moments when Uncle Ralph won’t stop touching your knee under the table.
While you’re here, check out this hella clever book trailer @clanrobtaylor built for me:
The edge is where you finally stop and think
do I care
or do I share?
Have I endured enough to share, and then endure the consequences?
Or do I care more for his reaction? For protecting him?
It builds and builds and builds, I care and care and care
I love him I love him I love him so much so hard but it hurts so much I’m on fire
I’m a slow burn inside out
I hold back and back and back
The Wave of Kunagawa is building behind my eyes my heart my fingers my temper
my paper thin temper
my filmy wet sodden temper
I am tired and cannot go further, the wave has crested and overtaken me
Kurosawa drives me and there are no brakes no airbags no barriers no soft landings
Hokusai overwhelms my heart and the rocket drives my mind and the flames fire under my fingertips and I explode and explode and explode and my feelings drip down down down all over the walls the door the window down down through the floorboards down down drip drip onto the tile on the first floor drip drip down each stair down into the basement
where my soul resides
in the sump hole
my soul collects the remnants of the results the reactions the consequences of my share.
I shared. There will be consequences. My soul will collect them with the others in the dank, dark underside of my home, of my body, of my life.
I love him but there will be consequences. There always are consequences. I chose to absorb them when I chose to share. I still wait for the fallout, the pushback, the aftershocks, the punishment.
Oh. There will be punishment for the share.
There WILL BE PUNISHMENT.
Thous shalt not feel without regard to how those feelings affect those who affected thoust (?) feelings.
I love him, but I shared, because I could not contain the wave, or it will explode my mind my heart my body my future my boys. I physically failed. My floodwalls failed. And I will absorb the flood, the earthquake, the runoff, the pollution, the consequences, which will contaminate the unknown.
I had to save my sanity, without it, I can’t save my boys. I had to save the known. Please understand. I’m sorry you feel bad.
The volcano erupted because I had to save the known. I love you. I love my boys more.
All my work is free. For now.
That’s not to say it hasn’t been edited within an inch of its life. It’s not crap. It’s not word vomit.
It’s “I have 2 jobs and 2 kids and I just want someone to read my stuff with an option to donate” free.
It’s “I just want eyeballs for Christmas” free.
It’s “Are you accepting new patients?” free.
Check it out. *CHEESE*