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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Adult · #2332266
Perdition is my favorite word. It is capable of much greatness.
I had a premonition he’d be on a mission to get me into every position.
He began an inquisition laden with suspicion like that of a politician.
He was starving for my nutrition so a quick extradition of my clothing came to fruition.
He had me on open exhibition as if it were an audition for a physician.
His tongue was a musician that played a most beautiful rendition.
Tradition quickly suggested supposition of an intermission as to avoid transmission.
Intuition urged me to raise admonition to his attempt at superposition.
I’m powerless to pose any opposition, he has my full permission.
I was in no deposition for the prohibition of his requisition of juxtaposition.
His sedition is causing attrition to my contrition.
With every proposition I lose more inhibition.
He reduces me to a condition of submission of my own volition.
With every thrust like ammunition came my demolition.
It was no imposition to our ambition of completion.
With my full admission he is the definition of perdition.
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