My mind turns weary and is in a state of mist, she draws at my heart with false strings tied to delicate and lovely fingers. She sees my scars and giggles, for she knows so many hold her mark. She takes pride in her mightiness over my necessity. I turn to flee, but with one beguiling express, she freezes my escape. I must meet her needs, and obey her every wish.
I am saddled with only a frosty silence, since her vanity requires no response. She takes custody of my helpless gaze with eyes as dark and beautiful as pools of blue blood. I am evermore her's to command. What fallacies she carries in her heart I know not. Instead she lays me down to wait upon a newly made bed of nails. I welcome the pain as I await for her next tender bidding.
-Johnny V
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