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