Emma Bear

Sex has never been more worthless,
A mild tempered snake enters a bag of sand.
My insides contract with that adoring look,
Adorning her face she's got her hooks,
Deep into my back drawing me downward
Like an leaden anchor filled with darkest matter.
I'll sink here awhile and listen to her laughter.

She cheers me on as if she can hear my hesitation,
I'd rather eat a blistering orphan than continue
With this sickly, wet concerto of undulations.
Her screams of pleasure are my bowels retching.
She fumbles over my skin like a blind child seeking comfort,
She looks into my eyes seeking some sort of return,

If only she realized that I'm not even there,
But rather in silence, a time out of mind,
A billion ashes in a cast iron urn.
Tomorrow is only more of the same,
She'll hold my hand and think of perfection,
It's my cuff to the cold of skin and bone,
My detestable queen has made me,
A king...
sitting in my forever throne.