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.