I feel the comfortable writhing
deep in my ***** again
I'm not sorry

This is your fault
You touched me first

Somewhere in the back of my mind
You're feeling me out

Little Miss,
Telepathic
Trespassers
will be prosecuted.

...I'll put my hands
around your neck
so softly

And choke out
the words caught
in your throat

To the tip of my tongue
     all the right things flow

To the flesh of your lips
     and all in between

resonating your body
     with stories

stranger
than
fiction

little deaths end
where they begin

can
you
feel
friction
feeling
you
up?

Just how you like
To be
shaken
and
stirred

tossed
and
over-turned

This is me unleashing
some twisted fantasy
to my little therapist
enabling me

To self-medicate with star-stuff
To "Show me what you're made of"
To "Baby, bend over and take it."

Show me the fourth wall
Let's break it.