To Clio

Tell me Doctor,

What do the numbers say

about throatfucking?

About brutal acts of

sexual domination?

Is there a rule of thumb

for three in the bum?

Spurting on your face

won’t beget me an heir

But joy and satisfaction

supersede biological imperatives

Have you formularised

for the whims of deviants

or even their cold calculations?

Fantasy has no bounds

Except the bonds I impose

around your wrists and ankles

Tying them back like a hog

and then skewering you

Sparing no quarter

Pounding your mouth

providing you food for thought

Open yourself to a new body

of knowledge

Allow your dear fundament

to be radically shifted

as we organisms

come to orgasm

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