Domme (Part 9): your theory

Being that I am who I am, I’ll ask you then again, domme morrigan, what am I?

When also, people in rage let out hatred in honking – “I’m not even gay,” nothing

Makes any sense, disorients, some ticking within me is just what theory wants,

Yelling domme morrigan, she is what she is, in theoretical measurements,

Beauty, whose every angle is a fragment of some whole picture I can not grasp –

Who is she? I’d make her incoherence a bigger philosophy – if she let me

Touch her wild honeysuckle, I’d declare that my thesis in poetry – it is what it is