The sorrow,
ever swimming,
takes me down to the corner,
digs me a hole
to drown in.
The cancer's ever-taking
what it wants,
doesn't worry about
the soul within that's
ready to shine at any instant.
And those lovely wrathful
Wall Street Prophets,
their voices,
our voices,
finally being stamped on the ground
in protest,
being heard.
Though it still seems
violence and inhumanity reign
in the places of power,
the money jar
being the cookie jar
for the Select Few
and the human rights violations
in the streets of our downtown cities
and in the prisons nearby
are small prices to pay
for a corporate fucking agenda?
May no crooked corporate monster
debase our art and infinite creative power
again. Amen.
There's such risk
in gypsy training,
queering and healing,
must keep looking to the light,
even though the dark is thrust
upon us,
so heavy.
Giving and sometimes
not even getting the
teacups and saucers back at parties
you throw.
take and taken.
My God,
have we all become
such sinister danger animals?
The shadow grew into a cold
monster overnight,
as I lay,
staring into ethers.
Wonderland repeats herself:
I take blame only for the madness
of the Hatter,
the rest is syrup,
darkness and orgasms.
The vampires whisper
in my ear again,
I follow them down
that ugly dank hole
in the concrete,
Daniel and his lions,
me and my serpents,
wanting to shine on you,
one last time,
before I leave here.
I want a kinder tortured soul,
no more brutal battery
to my characters,
now and then,
as of late,
and even back when I remember
times being better.
My intuition doomed me
because damn it,
I knew better with
moon slowly crashing to earth
and my eyes growing sad
with your half-lies.
Just wanted a bit of fun really
with insane gestures,
new sex positions,
and obscure references
to propaganda and the media
mouth hungry machine,
eating away at our senses,
teething on our bones.
Didn't you know?
We are made through
fire and ice,
a wicked angel's alchemy.
The desert night
is calling us back,
to the ground,
the slurring rain
drenching my skin,
covering my wounds,
making me feel holy,
just for one magic moment,
breathing in,
letting it out,
a road towards
final freedom.
Follow me?
Sex Mouth.
In the mirror,
did I mention,
I had a dream and you
were standing there,
in the reflection
beside me?
There are others
further back,
in the mist and memory,
that linger,
and are quickly taunting
my patience,
taking me down,
down to hell
with every early morning coffee.
I promise to try to forget,
and dance out the ugly.
Out,
you nightmares,
the fear and the anger
quickens my breath,
growing impatience at apathy,
it sickens me.
Look me in the face,
with brave and vulgar passion
and say what
you have to say,
goddamn it,
the preacher mounts his pedestal,
the king his throne,
the corporations and
their psychopathic tendencies,
appetites for cruel mind diseases,
whilst we the suffering,
the real people,
slave for their green tyrant dollar
that fits snuggly in the pocketbooks
of the dead cement golden calf machine,
who gets an erection from the grand sight.
However,
the hanged man suddenly
opens his eyes and
gives me a wink
with his skeleton beauty eyes.
He smirks a Cheshire's grin,
starts to beat the voodoo drum,
forgets his worries,
let's the pleasure pour over him.
Hands learn to feel free to wander,
the secrets you keep from me
start to be forgotten as my heat rises,
the rhythm of the night brings
us back to bodies closely intertwined,
panting in my ear,
God I love that.
Could I ever get enough
of that sex mouth lingering
next to my skin?
Not likely soon,
these are vampyre days
and nights of moans and moons
falling,
and laughter,
and fucking in long stockings,
and truths spilling onto
the carpet mixed with cum and venom.
You think this is just pretend?
Honey, this is just me
licking round the top of the
glass with my tongue,
havent even taken a sip yet.
My sex is deep I think
because I've wept so,
though I've explored the heavens also
and their depths are even greater.
The universe of sexuality
is vast and drives me deeper daily,
I strive to keep up,
even so,
it may consume me,
in the ethers.
I am ready.
did I mention,
I had a dream and you
were standing there,
in the reflection
beside me?
There are others
further back,
in the mist and memory,
that linger,
and are quickly taunting
my patience,
taking me down,
down to hell
with every early morning coffee.
I promise to try to forget,
and dance out the ugly.
Out,
you nightmares,
the fear and the anger
quickens my breath,
growing impatience at apathy,
it sickens me.
Look me in the face,
with brave and vulgar passion
and say what
you have to say,
goddamn it,
the preacher mounts his pedestal,
the king his throne,
the corporations and
their psychopathic tendencies,
appetites for cruel mind diseases,
whilst we the suffering,
the real people,
slave for their green tyrant dollar
that fits snuggly in the pocketbooks
of the dead cement golden calf machine,
who gets an erection from the grand sight.
However,
the hanged man suddenly
opens his eyes and
gives me a wink
with his skeleton beauty eyes.
He smirks a Cheshire's grin,
starts to beat the voodoo drum,
forgets his worries,
let's the pleasure pour over him.
Hands learn to feel free to wander,
the secrets you keep from me
start to be forgotten as my heat rises,
the rhythm of the night brings
us back to bodies closely intertwined,
panting in my ear,
God I love that.
Could I ever get enough
of that sex mouth lingering
next to my skin?
Not likely soon,
these are vampyre days
and nights of moans and moons
falling,
and laughter,
and fucking in long stockings,
and truths spilling onto
the carpet mixed with cum and venom.
You think this is just pretend?
Honey, this is just me
licking round the top of the
glass with my tongue,
havent even taken a sip yet.
My sex is deep I think
because I've wept so,
though I've explored the heavens also
and their depths are even greater.
The universe of sexuality
is vast and drives me deeper daily,
I strive to keep up,
even so,
it may consume me,
in the ethers.
I am ready.
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