What God Creates...

Her words are strong and fierce,

Sometimes shocking in their bluntness,

Crude in outlook,

But erotic in their truth and honesty.

When she speaks,

Something with in me stirs and

I desire her

All the more.

Her body makes me yearn

To hold her in my arms

And feel her heart

Beat against my chest.

Her sweet, warm breath

Blowing me

Little pieces of her soul.

While I would

Sell my own soul for

A night of her passion.

How could any man

Raise harsh words

Against her?

This is not the love

Anyone seeks.

How or why would he

Drag forth her past terrors

So she has no choice

But to display them

In humiliation and

Degradation for his own Ego

Fulfillment and

Dark, twisted amusement?

All I wish

Is for her to smile

And give forth that

Sweet laughter that

Warms my soul and

Ignites my lust

In ways that raise

My blood in parts

Of my body that might

Readily upset her.

There is always some bastard,

some where

At some time

With nothing better to do

Than ruin everything

And anybody

To hide his own

Pathetic weakness.

What a real prick.

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