Debauched, my pelvic bone recalls some things.
How she got off on my vestige tail stump.
Craving his 2-heart heart. Breaking bed-springs
in his 2-heart ass. Razing your plump rump
down to the ground, all savage child. “Break me,”
you said on our first date. I did. Twice. Sweat
on your breasts. Dried cum on your phat belly.
You crowed and cawed as I entered. Coquette
of the meat counter. Coquette of maimed flesh,
buff and dastardly. Passions are fickle, —
they change. My gut-bone knows this. My gut-bone
is down for — “Debauched?” you said. “That ain’t fresh.
It’s rad. It’s bitchin’.” Recall how your skull
bloomed as I turned your phat ass to pulpstone.