Be still my canvas
don’t struggle
it will make it worse
I need my canvas still
to be the body of the day,
my plaything
to squeeze, pinch, besmear
the more I make you submit
the more you enjoy
the more I rope you in
the more you sploosh
the more I stick moctezuma in esophagus
the more you open
every care mine to stoke
every fiber mine to rip
I spit on your face and yank you by the hair
I pound you speechless, literally,
your throat gives out
from deepthroating
and screaming
from when I finally fuck you
you’re finally a personal slave
fifteen hundred shades
of shrieking slut
every inch of you trembling with joy
as you become the self you always wanted to be