thirty orgasms in ten minutes

too stoned to do laundry dishes taxes i melt into bed watching daddy
on the phone his gargantuan cock begging for valentine kisses
which i give in the spring when little icicles drip from various edges
and i give in the summer when paletas from the cart compete
with the loud stench of mounds of san antonio me first garbage
and i give in the autumn when pumpkin spice is trending
and i give in the winter which is all about fucking by the fire
i give i give i give it all to daddy and by giving it all to daddy
i am giving it all to me and if that math makes you scratch your head
maybe mutter "stepford wife ho" or something similar and treat yourself
to a red pill wank session which probably includes images of pamela anderson
circa 1996 or britney spears circa 2000
because bitch you have never cum thirty times in a row in ten minutes
having video sex with the man who dommed the fuck out of you
when you were sobbing last week
and healed something in you immediately
his chiron at zero pisces lullabying the fuck out of your sun
at the anaretic degree of aquarius
you're too old you're too hip you're too dead
you are too something i cannot comprehend
if you judge and fail to feel this felt transmission
because thirty times in ten minutes ain't a
made for hallmark movie or a goddamn disney princess
and it has nada to do with money in the bank
or instagram swagger
fucking zombies fucking crickets
i repeat for the peanut gallery
thirty
orgasms
in
ten
minutes