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Letters from the Edge of Tolerance

This is where I document life lived with CPTSD, ADHD, DID, OCD, abandonment trauma, rage, and the long term psychological consequences of instability. Not for sympathy. Not for inspiration. For examination.

I write about trauma the way a mechanic tears down an engine. Piece by piece. What broke. Why it broke. What it still does under stress.

You will find poems that bleed without asking to be saved. Essays that dissect ethical BDSM, power exchange, dominance, consent, and responsibility without romantic illusion. Reflections on betrayal, identity, dissociation, religion, rage, control, and the uncomfortable mathematics of trust.

This is not a healing space. It is an honest one.

I do not frame survival as beautiful. I frame it as necessary.

If you are looking for optimism, look elsewhere.

If you want unfiltered analysis from someone who has lived at the upper edge of tolerance for decades and still functions, read on.

Existence is not always a gift.

Sometimes it is a condition.
1 month ago. Friday, January 2, 2026 at 7:17 AM

Beautiful is the pale White curves that smell sweet 

I can feel the heat rising between us in the great meadow

No shadow will cast upon you, brightly you shine

Even in our short lives your beauty will always be 

Even I can see those soft curves that turn to a peak

seek that which we all long for, that which we see

Kindness and sweetness, that pure pale White innocence 

No hindrance will ever stand before thee.

O' pale White and Beautiful, I call out to you

A sweet whisper in mine ear, a bright sight to see

Soft, delicate, abundant in the way you are

Strong, tender, bright.

Those beautiful curves of white.

Precious Moon Lilly, you bring forth wonderful memories 

Even with these intrepid seas 

Moon Lilly you honor me. Pale White and Beautiful  as you are


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