I don't want pretty flowers
or jewels from distant lands
nor a glass of sparkling champers
as we eat in restaurants grand.
I have no need for riches
nor to lay on foreign sands,
I just want all my clothes ripped off
by rough and eager hands.

Do not unwrap me gently
like fragile, precious gifts,
please tear and break me open
with your teeth and passions kiss.
Don't take me to the bedroom
to conform in cotton sheets
as beds are made for comfort
and not for what I seek.

These walls are made for leaning,
and the table aims to please,
this carpet made for placing
stinging burns on hands and knees.
Or take me to the garden
make me scream unto the sun
and roll me round in morning dew
until the deed is done.

Take note of these instructions
and my sweet spot you will find
You've followed them a thousand times,
though only in my mind.