might as well gimp me

must speak only in prose    
must conjure an arsenal of words...  
    
...that slide like eels through minds    
whose eyelids leave irises naked    
just enough to infiltrate    
with screams of silence    
and my incessant begging    
   
must i compete though    
with my stale and musty monotones    
the singularity of my one and single idea    
surely im no match    
my efforts futile    
   
i suppose then    
gimp me    
pimp me    
throw me to your mound of worn out rags and scraps of time    
like pocket change to make feasts from famine    
   
and through candlelight    
dim and luscious pearls in moonlight    
let him gaze    
and drink your pleasures    
i will always know my place    
in the darkness you leave left for me    
   
i am but a broken worn out toy    
a leaky, phallic tool without balls enough to stand erect and be your pole    
instead, when night is through    
and you have further need    
strap your strapon as my gag    
and ride me at 4am    
when nothing else will do    
or let me wait til morning roars    
and you find patience waned    
when my plums are blue    
to take what’s yours and invent a game    
   
or just leave me to slither    
tied like they do hogs and to-be-tamed beasts    
confine my reptilian needs    
raw and scaly and tart with instinct    
with groins that lunge without warning    
that need restraint    
to keep raucous libidos    
attentive yet not secreting    
   
but please, oh please, let me touch you with my eyes    
and caress your thighs and mind    
till you greet me again with the whip of your will    
and scold me in a hot bath of you    
   
mock my dreams of holding you in my arms    
like you let him do    
cuddling your grandness in graceful hugs    
as inside, your bright red heart pounds an anthem    
   
for when you finally come to me    
i will pucker like a starving snail    
at a pace that can’t be faster    
helpless and hopeful    
you might just crouch down    
to lift me from my most desolate residency