Altar

“Hi sexy I do love trans, it’s one of my fetishes.”

“I just want to have fun, Baby.

I'd like to play with you, would love to see your cock, Baby”.

“I'm very curious, you’re trans, correct?

Are you able to enjoy receptive intercourse?

One of my fetishes is feminine swallowing.

Any interest? ::wink wink::”

What they

Don't tell you

When you're trans—

Well,

Trans feminine

That is—

Is that

You become

An unconsenting

Repository:

A barf bag.

A urinal cake.

A diaper—

Of fetish,

Kink and

Secrets.

An object.

“Mouth open always, Mistress.

I would love for you to make me

Cross dress and service your gorgeous

Girl cock, like a slut.

After spanking me soundly, of course.

A ball gag would only get in the way

And deprive you of my cries and moans.”

Another name

For where you place

That which you hide,

That which you cherish,

And fear, is

An altar.

I am an altar.

An alter for

Your buried shame

Your unspoken fantasy,

That which you

Do not speak

To your wife,

Your children,

Your family,

Your priest.


A flesh and blood

Confessional booth, I am

Custodian,

Guardian,

Priestess

Of liberation.


Your liberation

From the colonial

Oppression of

Your desires.

Liberation through

Being oppressed.

A tits and dick

Bodhisattva,

Revered—

Whilst used.