Whether by command or instinct, you are ever willing to roll yourself over and expose to Me your soft white underbelly.
A shining, white beacon of light… the frequency you’ll NEVER find Me NOT tuned in to…
It calls to Me.
I crack one eye open and I snicker. A flicker of tail fin. (You think you’ve seen a glimmer of hope or at least a shimmer of reality.)
My scales are made of diamonds and pearls, My spears have ruby tips.
My locks weave a golden web of trickery.
Your weakness comes to Me as a dancing echo across waves.
It whispers heavy, iron clad, drool laden, thick tongued slurs of “please, Miss……please!”…
Your eyes are glassy, you’re SO delirious with confusion.
Floating in a black sea of worshipful impulses, your whispers become babbles,
And…you just can’t help yourself…
You are addicted to this all too familiar womb of secrets and you know that the only way to please Me is to sacrifice yourself.
Your whispers become screams.
My flesh is ripe with lust and desire for this kill.
I want to pierce your swollen shell, I want to see your ego bleed out from your ears.
I will encourage your glazed over eyes to cry rivers of shame.
You’ll just continue to roll over… and offer yourself to Me.
This post is inspired by porkodorko…