In the reciprocals of this evenings event,
the trash receptacles are dangling like testicles.
I tickle them, I make them blush,
and I bedazzle them with makeup.
Your forehead matches your foreskin.
What about the last evening of last year.
It went something like this.
You were strapped into a giant latex heel,
guttural language sparked imagination!
I was determined to have you pay.
Ignition is savory,
lemon drops to your open wounds.
You wish you could cry if you saw
what you looked like.
I had no intention of making this BDSM, but oh well. There you have it.