Manalive!

He flitters and he

Flutters through my mind all day

Long, and I want to

Suck him dry. Where is

He? Soaking here on my own,

This can’t all go to

Waste. How he murmurs

Nasty phrases in my ear

When we are fucking,

My deepest muscles

Tighten. He makes me feel like

A goddess and a

Whore, newborn and as

Old as time. We vibrate, and

Transcend existence.

Aroma Mortis 💀

Grandfather has been

Dead fifteen years. I put on

My mask today, and

Smelled him in my stale

Sweat, like a revenant. Deep

In my glands, lingers

The old man. Coming

For my youth. Vitality.

Aroma of death.

“Rational truth, root of evil and good.
Round me flew the flaming sword;
Round her snowy whirlwinds roar’d,
Freezing her veil, the mundane shell.
I rent the veil where the dead dwell:
When weary man enters his cave,
He meets his Saviour in the grave.
Some find a female garment there,
And some a male, woven with care,
Lest the sexual garments sweet
Should grow a devouring winding sheet.
One dies! alas! the living and dead!
One is slain! and one is fled!
In vain-glory hatcht and nurst,
By double Spectres, self accurst.” William Blake

Nudity as Archetype

The strangeness of the

Nude form. By undressing, we

Become someone else.

My binary logic:

Nude woman is a gift, nude

Man is a threat. Man

Is ugly, woman

Is beautiful. The way it

Is and will remain.

Leaking nudes without

Consent, a violation,

Worse than a theft. The

Genie, released, the

Damage is done. The tree from

which Eve ate revealed

Her, like how after

Orgasm, you think so clear.

Ham, cursed by his Dad’s

Cock. So it goes. What

We hide from outside is our

Similarity.