With delicious thoughts that don't know home from a bone,
you creep along the outskirts of knowing me.
You desire to sit there and wait,
for some goddess of purpose to give you the go.
From the getgo, you knew right from not doing,
and yet you don't.
Sweetened temples
alabaster thighs.
With lips of steel,
my jaws rearin' to go.
A lush and freakish night awaits your rejection-
for only then can the forces of fate
unleash themselves, reeling from begging to subjugating.
Come with your tongue intact, your thighs pressed closed-
in need of my directed hands to pry open all of your fears
and make your fantasies known. You are known already.
Hiding only prolongs my hellacious thirst,
hounds my slippery wheels with lubricating cogs.
Fortunate enough to be turning around your foolish objections.
Waiting might eventually flatter me,
but I'm not needing this prolongation of unliving
now or ever again.
Just try out this unprecedented design, of dominating the dominant.
Of submitting to ourselves.
Because you know what this could look like,
the clash of beauty, the extension of the unspoken.
Stop pressing me, fucking me with my imagination.
You're becoming unbearable. An enigma known. Tasted.
Yet not yet taken.
Originally published February 2009