I worship him
am at my knees with my mouth open and hands together like am waiting for some kind of holy communion
waiting to receive the unknown warmth of his manhood piss on my face.
Am I not tired of being enslaved,
accepting to be tied down to the bed as he sings hosanna to my nakedness,
how did I even get to this?
see my nipples salute in excitement waiting to receive him,
he fondles with my body like I am some kind of toy but again,
I still get up and bend a knee, wait in anticipation for him to baptize me
who said these things give a better facial than the spa?
life, as I chose to define it…
deep within I am as sad as i feel not as i look
for the things I am about to tell his pestle can’t be spelt out loud.
I worship him, like he is the only soldier on duty.