Preternatural lust One hunger One ache, just Swim-headed Cold-sweated, gone The leash is broken The cage door Knocked down Slake, sate Seethe, rape Coming
& coming again Say my name Say my name Say my name Shut your mouth
The Poet is eminently average in appearance and stature relative to other men of Ar. Brownish hair, cut short is coupled with grey eyes and a generally affable mien. His tunic is plebeian, as befits his status, a pale bluish color with a vertical red stripe. Sandal-footed, he steps past the bounds of propriety, around the limits of dogma. Something of a scandal in Ar, he commands a begrudging, if tenuous, respect from his peers.
This is a partial memoir, an incomplete autobiography & an exercise in ego. It is also completely and utterly fictional. An accounting of roleplay experiences and the in-character thoughts inspired by them.
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