In The Mist (Sonnet)

I crouch down on the boardwalk in the mist
And watch the river flowing as my thoughts  
Just wonder what would happen if you stripped  
My breasts; then slapped them firmly; time extorts  
Odd compliments from men; the strange design  
Of weird yearnings won't cease, but your impulse  
Is often chill, simply reflecting mine;  
It swamps me as you snuff out all the false  
And jaded, heated passions that must fade,  
So you can stand above me, as I itch  
To flow a fucking river. Damn! Degrade  
Me with cruel chastisements: I am your bitch;  
I need my cunt controlled; so, please, insist  
I crouch down on that boardwalk in the mist...