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  Feet


Have you been on your knees before, admiring a better's feet?
How did it feel?

Remember the look, the curves...
the toes, the arch, the heel...
The hairs on top,
even the ankle is on point.

Remember the smell, that sniff,
the first one that made you memorize the scent
deep in your heart, in your soul,
feel it deep inside.



Now take 3 deep breaths:

One,
Two,
Three.



You'd love to kiss my feet, don't you, queer?
You want to be on your knees, bent down, waiting for permission to come and kiss.
Kiss and look and smell and taste...
You can't get enough of it.

You love the weight of a real man crushing your face.
Being well aware, nonstop, of the fact:
The fact that you are less.
Powerless, no escape.

You know this deep in your heart,
that's why you're reading these lines.
Dust to dust,
dirt to dirt.

You're below the bottom of the human race,
You belong down at my soles,
It's the respect that you're due.
Kiss the floor I walk on.

Bones cracking under my feet.
You can't help it but to want more and more and more.
Look up. See my glowing face shining down at you.
We're not the same - you know this very well.

Otherwise, you wouldn't be here begging to kiss my feet.
We're a different species.
You were born to serve,
I was born to be worshipped.

I was born to live a wonderful and successful life
full of attention and praise,
while you crawl begging for a thumb of attention.

Look where you are.
At the floor.
Naked.
In front of a real man.

Can you smell my scent?
Can you understand now how unworthy you are?



Now take 3 deep breaths:

One,
Two,
Three.


An read it all again.
___


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