No, you’re not a slow jam man tonight.
No Barry White or bearskin rug
By the fireplace for you tonight.
Not for your babe.

No candlelit dinners,
No “wine-me dine-me”
Before the pinch
And paw me.

Not really a foreplay kind of guy,
More of a sneak up on me guy.

Your sweaty palms are seduction enough,
And nothing compares to holding her hands down
You know that turns them on.

No woman can resist
The kiss
Of a hand on her mouth,
Muffling screams and pleas for you to stop,
But you hear
“more.”

And that struggle she puts up
Makes her hips move,
Makes it better for you.

Like fucking a live body
Instead of the living dead.

It’s about being that weight,
That presence,
That force from above,
The one to dominate
The one to determine the game you play.

You like that power.

Because you’re a man
By any means necessary.

You’ll have what you want:
Ripped clothes, bloody nose,
Black eye, knife to throat.

It’s the thrill of the chase.

In the pursuit, to subdue,
She becomes body
And nothing more.
You become king
By fucking the whore.

Because you’re a man.

And not just an evil man;
Nondescript features in an artists depiction.
You’re a normal man.
You’re every
Man.

The boyfriend,
The stranger,
The acquaintance,
The lover.

And sometimes saying “maybe,
I guess,
A promise IS a promise,”
And sometimes saying nothing
Is easier than saying “no.”

Because you’re a man
And you feel you’re owed.

Entitled, deserving,
With that act you’re serving
Her needs and wants,
Desires you decided she had and didn’t know yet.

Until you shoved that cock in.

You are a weapon.
Hard on like a knife,
Stabbing and tearing,
Ripping and wearing down the humanity
And the last shred
Of dignity
In your woman,
Your thing,
That playtoy you invented.

You
Are a weapon.

No, you’re not a ladies man tonight.
No smooth talking from you tonight,
Not for your babe.

Subjugate that slut
With every four letter word
You can think up,
Then think up more.
Call her names.
Think up games
To play with her head
While she’s under you,
Kicking
You,
Hating
You,
Wishing you were dead
Wishing she were dead as long as this would
Stop.

And still somehow doubting
Wondering if maybe this was
Her fault.

For being her,
Being there,
Seeing you and not
Being scared.

For not thinking twice.
For not having a gun.

For not
Forgetting
To run.

And now her pleas of
“please,
stop,”
Fall on deaf ears.

Because you’re a man,
And this world is yours.

You
Own it.

"I wanna escort everyone through the romance of another dawn."
-limbic system