Sacrifice

I have a fantasy.
I wish for it
everyday,
but my dreams rarely come true.

The next lucky person
that crosses my path
with a shovel
can take all their years
of frustrations
and broken dreams
out
on my face,
my chest
and drive the tip
right through my scrotum.

I want to watch
as my genitals
hang
by the smallest shred
of skin
then,
smile as my hairless sack
is ripped off
by the wind
and buried
in the mud.

Why?

For the greatest feeling:
To make the unfortunate
happy.