I breathe deep, trying to control the quivers in my core but it is useless. You have already penetrated my thoughts, thick and rough with growls of virile need. Or is that sound me? As perspiration beads on my skin I accept I am alone. Yet you control me in the distance of time. The memories rub hungrily against my dissipating resistance. With a passionate scream of dark desires, I perch on all fours, head hanging in eager shame. I submit to the past of fleshly luxuries. I grieve for the present loss of poetic subtleties. I yearn for the future of punitive pain. Yielding to the void of your touch, voice or ink, I come … to the brink of our reality.