Of all the games
we learned to play
with jokes, with rules,
with risk and trust
we never chose
to lie.

But then you did.
And nothing
held.

No knot was tight,
no safe word sure,
no breath between us
true.

A whispered “yes”
became a guess,
and touch
a kind of theft.

Now every scene
rewinds itself,
the lines we drew
blurred…

For once a lie
slips past the lips,
nothing
truly grips.

Well, you arrived at this place,
The light of day erased
With the neon’s red glow reflecting off your face.

She craves leather lined with fleece,
Her hands raised high,
Begging for release,

She craves leather with fleece,
Legs spread and dangling,
Honey pools flowing to the sheets,
In every crease and wrinkle, I see ravines.

She begs for pain
With pouted lips, and eyes that grin,
The flogger’s tendrils trace
The very curvature of her frame,
One slap against her breast,
A gasp as it reddens with a twinge,
She laughs back and then -
Another crash against milky skin,

Her petals bloom,
Parting with nectar drooling,
And the leather fingers trace the ridge,
A calm before the storm begins,
Tickling nerves like exciting crowds,
Riling up until the breath breathes loud,
She moans through her longing sounds,
And then the crash comes, to burn it down.

How she longs to feel
Something more, something real,
With the silicone breaching her opening,
Deflowering in her garden of sin,
She screams for more, screams for him,
Needs me more than she can bear,
Tells me where, and tells me when,
But this is just a game,

Her eyes roll back,
Her hips raise and thrash,
Legs shake and collapse,
Mind blank, a relapse,
As the screams quake
And reverb back,
She sees god in the aftermath,
As heat flushes over like a sunbath,
And the sweat beads cool,
As tongue expresses a need to lap
Water to replenish the rain that falls,
In her a waterfall,
Pulsating through it all…

She loves leather and fleece,
As she patiently drops,
Never wanting my release.

“What’s the harm?” they whisper,
“What’s the problem
in being everyone’s fantasy?”
“In having all of your friends
find your flesh attractive?”
“Having the pretty privilege
morph into the entitlement of others?”

As they claim my skin
and caress my bones.
Peeling pieces of my body
and making themselves at home.

Consent is implied
within the lines
of whatever bond we hold.
Friends, family, lovers.
What’s the harm in giving them
what they want,
what they demand they need.
In watching them eat you up
With a never ending greed.

“But you’re my fantasy”
as if I’m obligated
to the impressions of me
you’ve shoved down my throat.
Until I’m choking and sobbing
pleading you to relinquish your hold.

Your eyes leave imprints and bruises
as you salivate over a body
I don’t even see.
It was only 3rd grade.
Again, when merely rending
the damaged goods of a teen.
By the time I was an adult
it was the only way I was seen.

But age matters not,
when you were never perceived
as a human being,
simply a desire
for others to devour.

“What’s the harm in being a *** dream?”
They scream “we’re all friends here”
as they render my sobriety to shreds
Only to tell me that it’s all in my head.

Society taught me to turn a blind eye,
“what’s the harm?” It said with a sigh.
They drugged me with ignorance,
refuting my plea.

A passing inconvenience for you
Born of my own naïveté,
is a trauma memory
that I can never undo.

There isn’t a piece of me
you’ve not seen,
nothing left of myself
to discover.
You’ve rendered my own exploration
into nothing more than a detour.

You’ve taken every first
I could have claimed
and thought to beat a dog
was the equivalent of making it tame. 
So now I’m sobbing into a void
wondering why I was ever
a thing that you could destroy?

If you have come to seek
Only consent & acceptance,
You will be poorly received
And denied at the entrance.
You come only to take
What you think you are entitled to,
As though it were not valuable
And as if it were freely offered.
In what you ask
There is no promise of reciprocation,
No hint that you will be grateful.
In your hunger for it,
The only guarantee
Is that you will want more.
You share no contentment,
No happy acts or jovial gestures.
The best thing for all of us
Is to deny you of our goodwill,
Perhaps it will cause you
To grow up
And be more mature.
If not,
It will at least mean the stability & security
Of our happiness & freedom.

Minx
Harlot
Holy
*****
****
shamed
de-famed
un-named
disdained

D­esire
demonised
staked in
the pyre
to burn
churn
in Hell
Brimstone
and Fire

Unholy
Passion
buried
under
ground
deeply
depraved
dungeon
enslaved

Misbehaved
Devil
deranged
enraged
disengaged
spark
cag­ed in
the dark

Compassion
gone out
of fashion
banished with
Adam and Eve
still no reprieve

Time to
Rise up
cease
the lament
give and
receive
retrieve
re-discover
your inner
Lover

Resist the
descent
reset
turn the
wheel to
consent
re-claim
re-name
re-frame
re-train

Proclaim
this flame
this fire
this unbound
Desire
let pleasure
reign in
the garden
again!

Live for freedom
  die without consent!