Delirium induced by broken memories
Shudders left lacking in female attention
Visions remain long after waking
Thus resulting in fragile retention
Those ministrations forever known
Dusting off the scarred, forbidden plot
When did the journey cease to please
Chained to the past with defective thoughts
Broken umbrellas & sturdy desks
Making no distinctions for the loss of time
Sketching out all the possible plots
Willful heartache remains the worst kind of crime
Put away your stencils & fountain pens
These days call for someone to be original & bold
Toss aside oaken casks of yesteryear’s notion
This world isn’t ready for those who shattered their own mold
Tea cups & china dolls should stay by the wayside
They won’t last long out here if they can’t put up a fight
Early days already simmering, making my coffee feel cold
Survivors must gather; let love be the fruit by which we write
My whole life on scraps of paper
My soul jotted down on the page
Plot lines between scribbles
Character development as we age
Everything that I am, right here
Pushing to further keep my mind trained
My heart’s secret smudged
Within these lines my identity is contained
My fetish is powerful women
Standing proud in front of a crowd
Holding court with authenticity
Firmly entrenched without having to get loud
Mesmerized by the way she carries herself
Controlling me with a compassionate glance
She’s my incandescent muse
My reason for believing in happenstance
She’s regal without being out of touch
Properly expressing how it feels to be real
But I know she’s never going to give in
No matter our depravities, she will never kneel
Containing the ability to remain soft & lovely
While always making me hard
She can be inconvenient to worship
Not a plot point, won’t let you simply discard
Who am I to say no?
When she asks me to open up for the Queen
I’m the victim of my own volition
But I love it all, if you know what I mean
Captain Q 