Wreck & Reference - Obedience

Where was it that bone met blade
Delicately lowering
your foot into steel trap
Listening for the creak of the spring

Where was it that collar met throat
A bundle of tubes
Squeezed together
No fluid nor air nor humor there passing

Where was it that substance met mind
Chloroformed the reckless
thoughts, their tentacles
Flailing you towards you undoing

We are masochists bound by what
not in bedrooms or basements
but in sunlight and living rooms
Adorned with chain, gag, cuffs, and leash

A body wound complete
in thread of crimson
A better marionette
No movement now resistant
No blemish to resect
No urge now still delinquent
No corruption to correct
No disquiet still insistent
No words short of breath
No thought now inconsistent
No act trailed by regret
Now master and submissive