I am a slave to the eager need
hidden beneath folds of pink flesh
and supressed in a tiny flower bud.
I follow it to compromising posistions
as it beats me mercilessly
with its contractions
and bitter, sensless drive.
Controls me
owns me
twists my brain into knots
and gravitates me towards uncertain
shadowy figures
that dribble salt into the wound upon my lip
and stroke the flower between my lips
making me more helpless than I already am,
if you could imagine that possible.
I wish it away.

 
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