[ OP ] The anarchist's wet dream

is not just to be marooned  
on a deserted, tropical isle    
with a fifteen year-old      
version of Brooke Shields    
to do with as he pleases    
     
but to also afarly observe her    
in all of her glorious nubility    
from behind his sweaty, palmed    
frond as she erects him    
a sandy castle upon shore    
     
of which, before the finishing      
touches are complete, he will      
kick the ever-living shit out of    
scattering it for tide's reclamation    
     
because denying the opportunity    
for anyone to live like royalty    
on his planetary kingdom    
is what truly gets him off