Roses are red;
           Blindfolded are you
           dripping wet
           from the things I did to you.

Smack
After every slap
And stroke.
the whip,
cracks across your back.
Flush with arousal,
Immense pleasure,
your body reacts.
your lesson reaching you
teaching you how to relax
As your legs spread,
your mind relapses.

Your lips on my lips
Your hands on my hips

Shivers run through
How much I want you...

Your fingers on my skin
That, Sensation from within

Your teeth in my neck
Your nails continue their trek
Down my arms.
Envelope my breast
Your heaving chest.
Travel for miles
Drive me wild
I'll scream your name.

Tie me Up
Tie me Down
Tie me All Around
Gag my throat
Hear me choke
Hear me beg
Hear me scream
"Master, take me, hear my pleas"

i never used to understand why people
hid their pop preferences like
they might hide a **** room...
or like: the toilet paper ran out,
so i jumped into the shower story;
what's with pop music in older people
and getting the embarrassment sticker
that says: HI, MY NAME IS JEFF
AND I LIKE BRIE POP FROM SCANDINAVIA:
nostalgic culmination? death growl
dark metal: the frustration apparent throughout:
frustrated amateur singers with their
strained veiny necks... see that aorta?
opera singers? are they even opening
their mouths, or is this opera meets Roy Orbison?
and by god, that's the case, people are
ashamed to actually acknowledge their
pop preferences... no wonder Patrick
Bateman is fuelled by it...
it's very much like that... pop's the foundation
in you actually liking music...
shame i love music more than women:
keeps my sanity... 2 months apart
and you can't hear a vacuum cleaner,
maybe once a week... maybe...
then the radio starts playing some vintage Roxette...
Abba who? that's for those aged
40 and above... Roxette is my generation's equivalent.
Roxette's masterpiece? Joyride:
the entire album, yes, you'll listen to
this album like some prog rock feast:
          Joyride                 (      :     + italics
                                    is the same as bold:
          double emphasis                 )
*****, you will! Roxette's Joyride is the
epitome of pop!

It's dark.
Sounds like a rainstorm and smells like fragrant fire. But the earth underground is thirstier than what sulfur and dead things and various excrements can quench.
And the scent may be a brain tumor,
or even better some drug-induced hallucination;
either way it feels amazing.

I'd just love to slap these stupid feelings
in their pretty faces, I bet that'd also feel
pretty amazing.

a million oscillating fans and still so much heat.
divine metallic miasma .

Is there something pathological about how
I like to see the hurt & desperation & the shock that I cause? Cuz I've been told this type of behavior is 'odd.'

...I don't see it.

I mean,

I do feel remorse out of narcissism
& for my own wants & gains.

It's just a *****, ***** game.


Everyone plays one or the other.

i sit inside ur
church and circle my tongue around ur *** rim
giddy up horsye
u say
wow ur kinkyyyyy
this is a made up *** scene
i directed in my head
i just wanna do what u want
i wanna do what u would enjoy
but im still a dom
ok?
im still a dom

we are hyper-etymological so be aware
that tricksters and fools are up to no good
and *** between equals is very rare
dominance and submission is everywhere
**** is Buddhism without vowels
but the Buddha's wisdom is just and fair
for only the turning of the wheel of dharma
can alleviate the endless suffering of our karma