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Control,
I beg for control.
Not by myself,
my person,
my deed,
But of me,
control of
everything I do.
I need rules,
regulations,
repercussions;
The feel of a hand
as it
slaps my ass.
Words that tear me
down,
then comfort,
then soothe.
“This is what you will do;
how you will do it.”
Despicable, detestable decisions
taken
away and
destroyed.
I beg
for control;
the taking and the giving,
The trust that ensues
as the one
person allowed to break me;
makes me.
I need to live in a state
of ever enlightenment.
A place where
I live for the present;
the
here and now of your voice.
I
beg to be
used, abused.
But
always will it be
because I choose,
because I love.
Control
can be divine.
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