I guess I own this little fucktoy some rage and sex and shit

I owe a guy some big-time crazy.

I owe a guy a dump-load of 'fuck offs'
for the reductive
assholery of our relationship,

I really believed he knew
I'm a fucking sociopath
with human tendencies.

And when you promise to worship me...
you better keep your fucking promise.

Because I am a goddess;
and that little mortal
had situational amnesia
for days.

So (sigh),
I owe him some screaming,
rage-y shit.

You know?
tantrum-slap his face
push my pussy against his bulge
as I tell him to fuck off
eyes snapping,
hungry for the way the
bottom of his tongue tastes
before the the moan,
submitting to the inevitable fuck
against a door-wall-table-couch-car hood.

The inevitable cycle of
crazy bitch and the
hunching escapades
of the man crazy enough to
want her

more.

So yeah.
I guess I need to break some dishes,
use a shard to tear a scar down his cheek,
suck his soul through his dick
and make him swear he loves me

more.
 
It's just that once the dopamine wore off
I realized how ordinary he is
without the shelter of my love

I mean, everyone looks like a demigod
wrapped in my legs
(they really are that long)
so his face wasn't so
very special
in that frame.

Once the cold emptiness
refamiliarized itself with me,
and I had to sit with my feels,
I remembered that I shrank for him.
I limited myself for him.
I acted like a desperate whore
because I wanted him so much
that I.

I.

chased a man.

:::PAUSE:::

A man.
One of those disposable,
petty fucktoys.

Ew.

So when the cold-water shock wore off,
I realized I'm better.

I'm better
without him.

And I'd screech at him,
shred his chest with my nails,
let loose the crazy
and the passion and
the wild need
and rage ...

But it's not as important as I thought it was
and I just got my nails done.

I loved him enough
to shrink myself.

I love me enough to unfold.

So I owe some guy...

So I owe some guy... nothing.


I owe some guy fucking nothing