How about a poem about sex and death to kick off February?! Woo! (Performed above, written below). I purposely made a reference to Egon Schiele because of his very manifest themes of sex and death...that probably may be obvious but meh.
It's another sleepy rendition. I feel there's not too much else I can say about it but I hope you enjoy it.
I think about sex a lot
and this exhausts me
or rather infuriates me.
I don't necessarily desire to
I want to be present
whilst you critique capitalist reform
yet the sultry lighting spots a quiver
of previous pleasure
and groans, grabbing
taking me there.
To say I'd rather leave is definitely a lie
but it's bad timing
always bad timing
and constantly tempting
to do. Fuck.
Maybe I'll join a monastery.
perhaps that'll force the
obsession to cease,
or I'll cathartically paint
a series of erotic artworks for the rest
of my life
like Egon Schiele
until all my mind retains is a blank canvas
of what was once a series of varied strokes.
Am I an addict of do I just ask questions?
Is it normal to think about sex at least 40% of the day?
Is it natural?
No way should I feel shame for such but
do we have the option to opt out?
Can we have a referendum on our lechery?
Sure we'd be more productive
as an asexual collective;
we might form healthier relationships
with less possessiveness;
the world is already overpopulated and,
lets face it, humans fucking suck so we can just
let our species die out;
let the world revive itself
and animals embody our once
thought permanent horn
assuming they don't toil over it
like I'm currently doing.
but for now
I'll let my toil stay
because between you and I
I fetishize it.
Happy sexing and/or no sexing, depending on what you prefer. Just keep it consensual ;)
Keep on steaming and all the best
Peace x
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