I solemnly swear that I am up to no good

I am chaos.
The more order you try to instil upon me, the more I rebel.

I could enter a 12-step programme to quit chaos.
What would my life look like then?
I might be less stressed, more effective.
I might be more level and calm.
MIght even be a ‘normal’ person for a while,
Stop dressing like a fuckable slut for ordinary stuff.

Is that what any of us want?

You want me horny all night,
riding you till my hips ache; your flesh is raw,
waves of climax crashing out of me,
wearing us both into exhausted collapse.

You want the madness that possesses me,
so I’ll beg for you to fill me up,
to slam me round by hair and throat
and crush the air out of my lungs.

You want the fear as I recoil from
further pain yet dripping cunt still
egging you on to do those things,
to tear and bruise my skin.

I need it too.
Delivering chaos to me should be your job.
Perhaps I’ll tie you up and keep you here
for days like this? When calm and steady
is too much.

Just this to help me sleep:
the dark intensity you bring.

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