Then suddenly everything changed. That is, everything was just the same as before—I was crawling along the corridor in just the same way—but the pain and fatigue, passing beyond the level of endurance, seemed to switch something off inside me. Or else just the opposite—they switched something on.
Finding the right expression is always a fight: The writer in him wages battle against the editor; one is bold, the other—doubtful. They struggle inside him for control of his pen; one—to write, the other—to cross out.
Uvi Poznansky and Zeev Kachel, Home
Roll my hips, feel him deep and solid inside me, solid and real as space on acid, the shape of desire.
Mary Sativa, Acid Temple Ball