"I wanna taste you,"
she said.
Volunteering to lustfully consume
my hetero drive with the
expertise of the eldest professional.
She loathes her motivation for acceptance
and aspires to someday be looked
upon with reverence.
It will never happen.
The ability to satisfy my most basic
urge is undemanding and instinctual.
I require more than physical pleasure
and superficial ego-stroking.
Where is the challenge?
The task of tackling sexual conquests
has become mundane.
Your Everest is my anthill.
She should be confident that I will remain
a steadfast suitor through an eternity of celibacy,
because her soul satiates my intimacy
needs beyond intercourse.
I demand that, at least.
Push me woman! Thrust me
into maturity with the ultimatum
of loneliness and lamentation.
I want to be cocooned of my natural
self and evolve into a man,
vital to your true happiness.
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