She wishes not to speak to me thinking me a fool thinking me common as a pig for supper.  She who is spinning her hair and womanhood around wildly not aware that I be the crown king of the realm I have flog more men than the strands of hair on her head, but I will play along with her, in her petty ignorance, this beauty of a beast inward and eye slayer outward, I shall have a piece of her wild freedom for dinner when the time arrives for truthfulness and satisfaction, and yes she shall bow before me, while I be in leathers rising like a full bull stallion on dirty canvas, painting her clear and white. Then that beast in her shall settle into the dust of past memories, crying for forgiveness as I spat on the ground.  High and mighty she shall be tumbling after her imagination wears out my crown. But, till then her savage outward appearance greater than a sleek panther on the prowl, with her rumbling voice scented with that sultry growl, I bow at her knees to please her jungle needs, but me as well, I feel lonely loins swell like never before, perhaps the beast within her could find me a way to adorn her short comings.  Oh my! Her thin sweet nose with flared nose holes wide, I am subsiding without land to grasp onto, as her breath warms my ear next to my soul, and so onto her mountains I cling in hopes of lining myself into her forever young garden of deviling. Heaving waves of sudsy sprits writhing, I swear never have I witnessed such storms raging inside me, who pray tell is this beast of lustful dominance, and that who could bend the will of a king without effort but from lusts alone in fleshes name itself? I shall fill her with endless jewels and silk in hopes that she will never vanquish me from her arms of lust filled desires, I will offer her my realm and queen her this day, and as many more as she so desires, and she shall spill into me both burning heated fire of flame and in tortures name restrain me whilst I begin glowing brighter, by day and by night, and I shall ask her hence to be my bride, but first I must squeal like the pig I am as glory is upon both of our screams of deliverance.  Oh, and with need of slowing our breaths we lye below the clouds on sweat wet ground and gaze endlessly into the empty voids now filling between us.  I arise and buckle myself properly, wiping clean my hand and instructing my transparent henchmen to pay her well, as I tip my crown and advise her to have no one around tomorrow, as nearer the sun hits the highest point of the day, as I will also return for my highest point of the day, Fairly well my lady, fairly well indeed, my imaginary queen, my imaginary lover.