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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.
3 years ago. Friday, October 21, 2022 at 3:44 AM

Welcome and come all!

Life is but a faithless cacophony of shadows. A world wroght insane. We wither and stalk, seek but yet are lost. Ask ye not of tainted lips, hallow thy tongue. Life is yet upon you. Fear the unseen, never forgotten. Lust for love, love not thy lust. Hopeful for the best, yet expectant of the worst. Heed thy words for life has yet begun. Life continues forth, unhendered, yet unrelentless. Lust for love, hate wrath, indulge your beast, but on a leash.


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