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.