Poetry / gimp

a delicate tactician, marvelled under me
as precise nails dug into the foundation of my spine
it was such a lovely battle scene
blood and sweat
blood and sweat
all over the two of us
her eyes were glazed blue
as mine became hazy white

she never told me when she wanted me to stop
she never mentioned when i should pull my troops out
she never guided me anywhere else but deeper

harder
into conflict
frenzied
only for her

into velvet painted masochistic bliss
oh my dear tactician, she checked my every move
my every move recorded from behind her closed eyes

movement and friction stripped our amibtion
stripped our pride
until it set me on fire

her orders
my anger
her displeasure
my fear

night strike
simple tonight
knife in tights
masked and submissive
til it all came out
and she then she laid down
oh she finally laid down

my fingers began to ember
as i brushed her hair to dust
and i put her on the carpet
inside our little ash tray
our grey love began here

cause now
i move
cause now
i sweat

and she doesn’t feel a thing
and she doesn’t feel a thing

no need for orders
there was no more war
no need to yell
there was no more peace
no need to judge
cause i met God
no need to cry
no need to cry
he saw me
and he liked
my shirt

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