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Self-Serving Prey.

I detest blind
worship, mindless subservience,
power-hungry dominators
exploiting the weak,
draining them of precious
vitality, reducing
them to tools
for use in deepening,
broadening their empire,
reinforcing their notions
of their own divinity,

so I am
sick to find dark,
smoldering happiness
here in transient
slavery, my nausea

transmuting to arousal
when it comes to you,
your words, your ocular
high beams enchanting,
inspiring intense focus,
ego absence,
lost in bliss, drifting…

Drawn to the interplay.
Dominance, submission.
Both swirling like a cyclone
deep inside of me.

Seductive, complex
sorceress, weaving her webs,
watching prey
get caught, panic,
get tangled in their struggle
like a gift wrapping itself,
a meal serving itself.

What the fuck
is wrong with me?
Dark drive of mine,
an enlivening resonance.

Escaping here into hypocrisy.
Its in you, in me.
Such deep ties
between desire and hatred
held up to my conscious
light here, yearning
and resistance fucking
in the tension, both exposed
like oozing wounds offered

to your vermillion tongue,
between beaming white teeth,
saliva running, glistening,
as if begging to be consumed
by you, as if you are
another part of me
and this suicidal submission
is my antidote,
as if you can help
me complete me.

I tell myself I only
see here what I want to see,
maybe need to see,
whatever leads
me back to my place in line,
dumb, grinning high,
rock hard, ever-ready to blow
though the hand that guides
me never released the bow
to let the arrow free,

transfixed, thirsty for satisfaction,
gripped by hypnotic
obedience, inching closer
as I await your slaughter,
my morbid welcoming.


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