Forbidden Fruit’s in Season

I nudge my face deeper into the pillow,

hand exploring beneath tiny panties.

I forget who I am, I love who I am,

an autogynephilic archangel who hung with all the wrong crowds.

I read the news today, oh fuck!

Heaven is overpopulated, Hell is not.

So God in all His tyrannical majesty,

has sent all his obedient little submissives to weed out Earth’s herd -

all the fags, trannies, jews, and unwell wishers.

Ares and Khaos thrust deep into one another,

drowning us in the lava of their retribution.

So forgive me, then, if I would prefer ignorance,

the likes of which is only granted between thighs.

I do not want to be an Anthony with all his edging purity.

I want to be an Oholibah with all her hedonistic clarity.

I love women, I love women, I love women!

I yearn for the touch, their infinite imprint, they each can give me.

I want to frolic and laugh and play in Babalon’s garden,

make congress with her wisest harlots.

Adorn me like your prettiest parure,

I am the Pollock triptych of your midnight fantasies.

Stalk me, massacre me, kindle me, and consume me!

Serenade it all to the next girl, tell her my beauty was too much to bear.

Come, my love, unto me, anon, anon!

Follow my dripping trail to our whispering boudoir.

Follow me, me, me, your blue-lidded daughter of sunset,

the naked brilliance of your ever-expanding world.

Embrace me and fool me before I wake.

I want to be fucked out of my own knowing.