Erotic Exorcism

Chewed through
with gnarling teeth
the strains of capital intake
for the wall street erections,
We, the supernatural ghosts and grand giants,
shaking and quaking
in holy pleasure
and connection to the
collective spirit,
stormed down upon
the idolized dollar
to tousle you awake
from your sleazy sleep
of conformity and comfort-
you hid from the visions of
the abused poor used for
sickening science experiments,
money making for the already
privileged rich bigots,
battered women
tortured swiftly out
of their natural beauty ecstasy,
put in barbed wire wicker baskets and
burned so as to hide
systematic oppressive patriarchies,
the prophetic
deemed pathological,
turned “sick” with
hyperbolized disorders,
quieted and subjugated
by anti-depressants,
choked and stuffed full of pills
to erase any notion
that diverged from mainstream media,
subtly quelling our jouissance
without a sound or shudder in the daytime
though I was woken from my dreams
to hear the screams of the dying
and the innocent betrayed
by the very people who had promised to protect them.
The few grisly lies repeated on our brainwaves,
protecting the top corporations
(now seen as people?
what bullshit)
keeping them safe and cozy
in their soaking blood money
that they munch on for breakfast,
our red veined pain
runs down their rosy cheeks
while they snicker
with hand shaking and
back-patting in coroner white-breasted suits,
at the mighty joke on the rest of us that
we let feed our
through the psychotic
television tubes,
breathing heavy
down our backs.

Tricks and trade
drowning out the voice
inside my head that
whispered echoes of
enlightened sex and
erotic understanding
of the puppet factory that is
selling apathy and violence
as means to enrichment.

I touched myself,
ever so delicately at first,
slowly stimulating my curves,
then relaxed into bliss states,
to fucking hard and fast,
fingers soaked,
orgasming out the demons
of the past,
punitive damages deterred
due to “too busy” corporate meetings
in the belly of the underworld,
car crashes on
mountain peaks
without lifelines,
moaning out my
mourning for the
agony I saw scribbled across
your face as you
lost yourself in
self-induced chaos
instead of choosing
kundalini rapture,
angels with wings that
they didn’t seem to
realize they had,
to fly away from
the glorification of drama,
raping our young to sex slavery
and the mechanical porn industry
that taught to take now 
and ask later.

I wouldn’t be the
mouth-taped shut girl anymore,
rocking back and forth
in the mire of your
sickened periphery.
I was not here
to entertain you,
but to take your hand,
along with my heavy heart,
up and out of the quicksand
and drive us home,
away from the aggressive environment
and the toxic consequences of the world
of the “real”
which was really just one of many storylines
to choose from.

Slow down sex eyes,
breathe deep and down to
your pelvic thrusts,
I shall enter you at
the base of the spine,
raise up your back
to your supple neck,
cuddling your broken bones
in my empathy,
soak you in sultry sighs
of intuition,
throbbing energy
under your waking skin,
fitting nice and cozy in your
fancy bloodstream,
riot and raunchy ricochets
to cursive tones,
didactic vibrations
that pulsed to the stars
and back,
sinking deep into
your wounded ground,
lifting you up to the
astral sphere with
delight and coming spirits,
together changing the
polluted earth with our
sensual whispers,
back to the flowering forests
and flowing clear waters,
silky marshes,
radiant unashamed passions,
beaming and blooming forth
to the moon,
erotic exorcism
until every cell in your body
ejects light. 

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