Oral Sex in the Throne, Overlooking the World

Pull your hair back:

Nobody writes letters anymore,

Buy a stamp and live among the post-card royalty.

Language in the key to a rusty lock,

(I’m told it’s a virus)

Pleasure and dopamine trials,

Voyeurism is a happy-ism,

Are you an ism-ist?

I know I am,

I know you are.

Wrap your hands and mind around the obscene power:

Nobody gives a f**k anymore,

(Now they give two)

Boredom is a goddess in a nightgown,

And the bedroom is a temple or kings.

Put me on trial!

Charge me with obscurity!

Public indecency! Revolting against the rebels!

Am I?

Aren’t you?

Enjoy your complete control:

Guns and red tape,

Nudity and the overuse of “naked,”

Puncture my lungs,

Refuse coherency!

Dull your minds, sirs!

Quiet your models on the set of life-

Flash photography and a nice chest,

I know,

It’s for the best, ya know?

“Wet, lather, rinse,

Wet lather, rinse,

When sleep leaves us,

We must find bliss.

Hold your kings tightly,

Satisfy your gods,

Stop your fighting,

And watch royal eyes roll,

Back,

Back,

Back,

Into his erotic skull,”