Monday, April 13, 2015

METAMORPHOSES OF THE DEMON QUEEN

She rends her attire with her lacquered nails
Shredding the fabric of the garment, unknotting seams,
Loosening and ultimately snapping off, the threads, that hold
Stitched cloth together.
She fingers her moist core, sending shafts of desire
Coursing through her, broken images, cohering and diffusing
Into unarticulated though palpable desire, while imbuing
The desire to be consumed with the urge to ingest
The bearded guy up in the clouds is now a myth
While his facsimiles below insufficient recompense
Truly, she doesn't even care a fig for a prick
Preferring,instead, an all encompassing bosom
Where, smothering, she'd return, to the womb she left
Striated with its fertile juices, dripping with the placental
Drops of blood and water, re experiencing, the primal voracity
To incorporate into her that which expelled her.
Fuck adam, she says, screw the rib
I'd rather commingle with the devil
And through the apple, discover
A corporealized eve
I could suckle on her breasts ,she thinks
The fluids that connect tit to the vulva
Or traverse, by circumnavigating her frame
That from which all would henceforth ensue
Go to hell, she says to the courting prince
I want your sister back
She the princess, and me ,the demon queen
On to each other's beings, tacked.

No comments:

Post a Comment