Let me trace an arc of longing on the softest, sweetest parts of you.
Make the sounds that I will replay
Over and over again, every time I am alone.

Build a circle of seduction
With whispered explicits, your tongue, and your arms.
Let me climb inside.

Pull me closer.
Place your hands behind my knees,
And slowly, firmly, raise them higher.
Make me tremble,
I'm on fire.

Sweep my dress from my shoulders,
Let your fingers find
Bullet-*******,
Squeeze, tease, grind.

I will get down on my knees and beg,
I always will.

I will get down on my knees
Strategically,
Knowing what you want from me.

Make me helpless
And laugh, softly, at my complete
Exposure.

Tell me what to do, everything you want,
I will comply.
Free me from myself,
Enslave me to your will,
Make me cry.

Give me what I want.
Give me what you want,
Oh, please,
Tease, tease.

They came without vision
None questioned their skills
They took a big lead
Then promply got killed
New England was battered
New England was bruised
Atlanta was lunching
And quickly got schooled
The halftime explicits
They blistered the walls
The bigger the lead
The harder they fall
Tom Brady's the gravy
In Belichick's cup
Coach built a big fire
And heated him up
There were some deep passes
Some ***** and some dunks
The hell of it is
It was done without Gronk
That tightend of legend
Who sat in the wings
While wiley Tom Brady
Conducted the thing
It's all big in Texas
Including that game
The hype, the excitement
For Atlanta, the shame
We heard them complaining
We saw them give in
With Julio to lead them
They still couldn't win
But, there is good news
If it wasn't from chocking
They stumble this fall
Then it must be bad coaching
In twenty-eighteen, we'll fire the staff
And bring in some retread
For minimum cash
He'll get the ball rolling
We'll win it, for sure
Or, ole Mr Ryan
We're showing the door

I was not born into a broken family.
My father did not drink excessively
and my mother had kind words to say.
I did not learn to yell from hearing them yell,
and I never saw him lay a finger on her.

Instead,
I sat in trees turned church pews
with a passive being just out of reach.
Desire to be not me,
fiending a response
from a man mother and father spoke so highly of.

Instead,
I sat in blue bathroom stalls
with stained tiles and permanent explicits for company.
Passing lunch period for it was something to pass,
eating because although you stole my tongue and taste-
you left my stomach to waste.

Instead,
I sat beneath holy hands reaching-
that painting on sunflower walls haunting.
Each thought,
sin,
mistake
would be admitted to guilty air.