It’s not narcissism to want sadism
and the knotted lash. Get treated like trash

after orgasms— after opium—
let raunch remain. Thrash marks. Ash from your hash

pipe in your hair. Face down. Ass up. You glare
from clove-hooded lids, gape wide while queer fluids

drip from your cheeks. You swear that this is prayer.
Faith needs pain. I’ve sucked on your nipple studs

— ridden you to ruin. Burnt you. Graven
image that you are. Each stroke is the stroke

that might break you, but won’t. The sky is bright,
we are alive and O soul! What Latin

means a furious fuck? We smoke. We toke.
We are all the essences that unite.