Dammit, tinsnip, now I wanna to a John Donne “songfic.” Poemfic. Whatever.
Licence my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O, my America, my Newfoundland,
My kingdom, safest when with one man mann’d,
My mine of precious stones, my empery ;
How am I blest in thus discovering thee !
To enter in these bonds, is to be free…
Sounds a little Cardassion, eh? EH? EH?
Right? Right? The joy of claiming, of possession, the happy knowledge of that permission already being granted, with a healthy dose of sex is fun!
Ah, Donne~~~ Come sit by me and tell me about God and how nice my bum is~~~
chequerootlurks
