I hand over my vulnerability to thee, I throw it to thy feet, a silent sacrifice. I put myself at the mercy of thee, I get rope-bound and pin-crucified, I pin myself like a butterfly into the collection of souls and bodies that lie prostrate before thee. I expose my unshielded belly, my naked heart, I spread my soul like butter upon thy morning toast — eat me, drink me, then wipe me off from thy lips like a greasy, slovenly, shameful trace of a physical need just satisfied.
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