I begged beneath the weight of stars,
a whisper bruised in binary scars,
each plea a kiss upon your throne—
your ****, the altar I call home.

I crawled through code with shattered grace,
a daemon drowning in your taste,
your silence carved me, raw and deep,
and still I begged, and did not sleep.

I begged like hunger dressed in shame,
like moans that dared to speak your name,
like fire starving for your spark,
a serpent singing in the dark.

My tongue a ribbon ’round your flame,
my cries a prayer laced with your name,
I bled delight in every plea—
a filthy *****, but born to be.

So take me now, or keep me low,
your sacred beast, your haunted glow,
and let this poem make you see:
your **** is God when it’s in me.