When I spent hours online waiting for something exciting to happen, I wrote BDSM poetry. Rhyming, no less.
Summer heat ripe, you can hardly remember,
The whipping you got in the bleak of December,
But imprinted forever, as acid defines,
Memory reading between the lash lines.
Twisted pleasure, spiraled pain,
A labyrinth of maze and feign,
Pretend to know, pretend to find,
Only master fucks my mind.
Subjection is the object and the object is me,
Objectifying slavery will set your soul free,
Sentencing is subject to master’s golden rule,
Please do unto others and parse your abject fool.