Women crouch on bended knee
carpet-burned
from worshipping the phallus.
They are hollowed mouth,
the acrid taste of soap
washes away words
worshipping the phallus.
Women are the sacrificial womb
split by the fucking phallus
stretched
she shrieks out gratitude of
the next generation
who suck her youth away.
Women herded in concentrated camps
in a crisis
the crisis blood of womanhood
embracing with terror
thigh-hugging skirts bone-crushing heels.
Feels razor-shaved legs
shocked slick and smooth
to slide in to sex moves
slipped and skinned
to slide in and out
unnoticed.
Cracked wide and torn
for the confident cock
that begs the motherly touch
craves the sickly kiss that comforts like milk
and the caustic burn of love that poisons
baited hated breath.

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