My mind is illicit.
All the content is explicit.
I'm a perv, you can't miss it.
If you don't like my ass then you can kiss it.
My thoughts are erotic.
If there's a toy then I've bought it.
Any dirty thought you come up with,
I've already thought it.
My musings are obscene.
I just can't keep them clean.
I tried to be vanilla but I just don't fit that scene.
The darker, dirtier flavors are where I seem to lean.
I'm a nymph, I crave sex.
I turn into a fiend.
I think about it constantly,
I'm obsessed if you know what I mean.
So much stronger than caffeine.
To me sex is like amphetamines.
I can be your slave or your queen,
or anything in between.
I want someone who fucks like a machine.
Who drives it deep, into my spleen.
Who makes me squirm and scream,
and that's all just his daily routine.
No doubt I'm sick, I need a vaccine.
Spending my days watching porn,
eyes glued to the screen.
I find the intimate sounds both exciting and serene.
Many have tried and failed to intervene.
They've said I needed help since I was a teen.
If you think I need help then maybe you're a little green.
Telling me to stop is like putting fire to gasoline.
My mind is a sewer.
Worse than the filthiest magazines.
Everyone guard your innocence,
and please don't enter if you're not eighteen.
~ Rachel G. Ezell