The Cuckoo’s Nest

Silky, seductive amnesiac silhouette
I query the oracular waters of myself and me: Who in Jezebel’s name are we?
The floodgates of prudence are rendered sunder and with them hath come the ardour of a bygone age
Asherah, the sacred mother of whores, gazes at me fondly from the altar of nuptial consummation
Urging gnosis, urging initiation into nature’s venereal enigma

Mountainous breasts perch naked in all their earthy glory
With twin peaks firmly erect in their idolatrous high places, embellished in offerings of enticing jewels
I splay my thighs open wide, and lay bare the gold mine of my wombic soul until she sees the puckering cavernous cherry
Taste the primordial starlight, my darling, lap up the spiked nectar which sweetly drips for you, in his name
Ecstaticise me as I suffer, breathily, and whimper, “Daddy”
And there is nought but combustion and convulsive fury in the wake of a little death

Pandoric nympholepsy and semen smeared conquest
For this moment we are coalesced in salacity, my desperation compelling me to throw away self identification for his admiration, his adulation
And this I am already become
His nothing, and his everything

And an erotic goddess emerges from some phrenic nebular corner
Watch me Daddy as I am consumed by the Succubi in three, two, one:
Can you see?
My vulnerability is yours, your objectification my necessitous alibi
Use me, overcome me, have me worship at your feet in this sapphic frenzy
That you would know, I am your soul-slave, completely
And you are whom I live to exalt:
My carnal, exquisite King.

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