Sensual Daydreams and Erotic Nightmares

I dreamt a dream, asleep this morn

And from another dream 'twas torn

The dream was good, the waking bad

Within this dream-within I had

I dreamt of you, dreamed half-awake

There blissful pleasure's form did take

I dreamt of you, that dream I'd keep

But woke while I was still asleep

There, someone else was touching me

Discovered most alarmingly

There, while I slept, there, in my room

A stranger, an unknown for whom

I felt no love and no desire

He was no man, he had no fire

Just grabby, slimy, childish lust

Groping hands, unwelcome thrust

A pleading, sycophantic air

With clammy skin and greasy hair

Limp and colorless and soft

Unclean odors float and waft

Grubby hands caressing me

Weak but clinging desperately

Invaded through my bolted door

Strength, only in wanting more

And though I scratched and kicked and fought

Escape was only gained in thought

Until my eyes again I ope'd

Still I am not as free as hoped

I feel his hands, I cannot move

Though wakefulness is real and proved

True senses penetrate this theme

The layers of dream-within and dream

And so it clings to waking light

The sense that something is not right

Meat

i am flesh

you are teeth

and in my hunger to be

devoured

i must accept my status as

meat in your mouth

chew slowly

swallow

or spit

Hate

I hate comics
I hate actors
I hate poets and playwrites
I hate dancers
And directors
And the ones who run the lights

I hate painters
I hate sculptors
I hate potters at the wheel
I hate editors
And cameramen
And those who change the reel

I hate roadies
And guitarists
I hate keyboardists the most
I hate bassists
I hate drummers
And producers can all roast

I hate novelists
And art critics
Philosophers can hang
Conductors
And composers
Lyricists bang bang bang bang

I hate costumers
Set designers
Properties managers
I hate talent
I hate promise
I hate theatre majors

I hate artists!
I hate business!
I hate math and scientists!
I hate doctors!
I hate lawyers!
And those damned evangelists!

If you're waiting
For a punchline
Well, too bad, I hate jokes too
I hate men
And I hate women
There's a chance that I hate you.

Collector of Secrets

I am the collector of secrets
Of sexual secrets
I seem to be passive
Lay back and take orders
The whole time I listen
Record in my catalogue
All your obsessions
In physical dialogue
Sting of your spank
Amplitude of your instrument
Words that you choose
The instructions you generate
How do you like it?
Record in my catalogue
Habit, technique
And instinctive reaction
And deep as you penetrate
I mine your secrets
Your sexual secrets
Become mine to confiscate

Oh my lovely, lovely friendies

Oh my lovely, lovely friendies
What a strangely beast I am
Coming on heartfull of warmness
Just to scamper off again

The madwoman in my attic
Burnt the house down just last year
I am her and I'm her keeper
Dreamy lovelies, full of fear

Oh my lovely, lovely friendies
I'm so cruel and I'm so mean
By not meaning to abandon
I'm not doing what I seem

The madwoman in my attic
She was ended just last year
I am her and I'm her killer
Dreamy lovelies, shed a tear

It's not about you

He was desperately confused.
(it's not about yoooouu)
His never-ending wrestling match with an insatiable and carnivorous sexual appetite left him constantly exhausted.
(it's not about yooooouu)
A starving lion who must dine delicately on the choicest of meat or not at all.
(it's not about yoooouu)
The analogy breaks down. Characters muddle and meld. It is about you, it's not about you.
(if I was a man I'd have a whole different set of problems… and also many of the same problems)

In wakefulness I live the dream

I'm happy so I cannot sleep
The triumph over hardships deep
Has left me feeling quite serene
In wakefulness I live the dream

So ask me not to droop and drowse
When all my spirit would arouse
My memory to relish in
Complete and near escape from sin

To suffer deeply as to sink
In bitterness but still to think
And bend emotions towards the light
Gives happy freedom peaceful might

The vines that grow from hardened ground
Yield smaller fruit, more sweet and round
When crushed and parted from the vine
Brings forth a more delicious wine

So bliss that grows in sorrow's shade
Tastes sweeter than joy ready made
And how can slumber cloud mine eyne
When I have drunk of such a wine?

Chapter 4

"Don't make it complicated," she said.
But when the average human brain is intricate enough to support vastly more possible states of being than there are particles in the universe; when everyone is alone and true interpersonal connection is nothing more than an elaborate fantasy; when the issue at hand is exactly that fantastical attempt, for one astronomically complex organ of perception and thought to attempt to fool itself into believing it can even begin to comprehend and relate to the inner workings of another such astronomically complex organ of perception and thought… "complicated" is better than the best we could possibly hope for. Compared to the real impenetrability of the situation; "complicated" is more straightforward than a desert road, more transparent than clean air.

"Yeah, ok. But just... don't make it any MORE complicated, alright?"

My Darling (another version of 'Listen, Babe' written at the same time)

My darling
I've got monsters in me
And they're hungry
They're soooooo hungry
That I can't eat a thing
Can't swallow down a single bite

It's not food I'm needing
Food is a rock inside my stomach
Clench
Release
And clench
And HEAVE
Choke up pebbles, sand, and dust

But I can hear my monsters growling in my guts
Feel them clawing at my insides
Hollowing
Hollowing
Howling
Powerful with famine

And you
And all you others
Just my skin to hold them back
Thin, translucent membrane
And you smell so delicious
Noses pressed between the bars of my ribs


Those who have never felt these primordial beasts churning within them cannot comprehend the soul-cracking ache of devouring a lover.

They call it sin

I call it nature

Angry.

I confess myself angry. Still angry. And although you are not at fault, you are in many ways (though not all ways) the prismatic center of my frustration and malfortitude. Therefore keep away (a while), as the ventilation of my felonious rage on your endearingly unexpected innocence (ignorance) would leave me feeling empty, guilty, and sad.

Chapter 15

"I don't want you to be the one that broke me. You don't deserve that distinction, as you are decidedly undistinguished. But it's true that I've changed since experiencing that traumatic switch in your binary affections. I used to have so much heart. My heart was in everything I did. I came to this conclusion in a backwards way as my first realization was that 'my heart isn't in it' anymore. Even my consuming emptiness seems comical and absurd to me because, honestly, who cares, darling, have another drink.
"You nearly destroyed me. Or I nearly destroyed me after you left. Death had me by the throat, but I chose life. Now death has given up the chase but life continues to elude me. Life, darling. Love and pain and joy and laughter and tears and dancing and sex and fear and fatigue. I exist impossibly, somewhere in limbo. I am a body with a mind and emotions and desires and the instinct to survive, but no heart, no heart at all. Death holds my heart (not you, beloved swine, you hold only my pearls), and he will collect the rest of me.
"But not
"yet.
"And in the meantime you will not be allowed to inflate your ego on the gassy satisfaction of having ruined me. I will live on, if only out of spite for you. I will love to the depths of my blank, empty, heartless hole. I will pursue the heights of aliveness to my very last breath. And if I ever see you again, I will kill you."

Understand?

I'm the lion and the tamer
I'm the tiger and the cage
I'm the circus and the freak show
Business acumen and rage

I'm the door and I'm the porter
I'm the time and I'm the age
I'm the book and I'm the scholar
I'm the pen and I'm the page

I
Am
A self con tained e co sys tem and
If
You
In tro duce a new spe cies it will
Up
Set
The ba lance of my bi o rhy thms
(tick... tock... tick... tock...)

I'm the patient and the doctor
I'm the master and the slave
Both the mother and the infant
Both the digger and the grave

I'm the moth and I'm the candle
I'm the light and I'm the cave
Both my love and my beloved
I'm both particle and wave

I
Am
A self con tained e co sys tem and
If
You
In tro duce a new spe cies it will
Up
Set
The ba lance of my bi o rhy thms
(tick... tock... tick... tock...)

I'm the lover and the warrior
The dreamer and the dream
I'm the paint and I'm the painter
I'm the nightmare and the scream

I'm bewitched and the bewitcher
I'm the plotter and the scheme
I invented the inventor
I'm the cat who got the cream

I
Am
A self con tained e co sys tem and
If
You
In tro duce a new spe cies it will
Up
Set
The ba lance of my bi o rhy thms
(tick... tock... tick... tock...)

I'm the gift and I'm the burden
I'm the hunger and the meal
I'm the hard truth and the questions
I'm the answers that conceal

I'm the words that cloud your meaning
I'm the kiss you never steal
I'm the life and I'm the heartbeat
I'm the fantasy of 'real'

I
Am
A self con tained e co sys tem and
If
You
In tro duce a new spe cies it will
Up
Set
The ba lance of my bi o rhy thms
(tick... tock... tick... tock...)