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Some things are inspirational. Some things are downright glorious. And, in the most sublime of conditions, some things are even worth writing about. Like that look in her eyes right before orgasm. That frantic mixture of pain, vulnerability, confusion, and terror. Her eyes screaming that ancient pleading scream, the very eyes of somebody being murdered. She had no choice but to grasp my whole body tightly, with all her strength, defeated. And I was possessed, purdged of altruism, I wouldn't relent until we were both dead. And we were one nervous system, then. Rome was falling . Some things are inspirational. Some things are downright glorious. And, in the most sublime of conditions, some things are even worth writing about.