We struggle to find meaning for random occurrences.
No example greater than
Sex with a stranger.
The scent of a perfume
Or a shaved there,
Or a blowjob.
But what meaning was discovered
As genitals contorted between limbs
During the bath-house orgies
Did Marquis De Sade
Find meaning in punishment?
Did Ben Franklin find freedom
While snorting coke off a whore’s breast,
While present at the Hell-Fire Club?
My way. Through black perceptions.
Stopping once I discovered the white of clarity.
I thought her special.
Or that orgasm unique.
It was just the indulgent nature
Of humanity’s imperialism over the Food Chain.
A thought process
Giving meaning to organs
That fit together
Like puzzle pieces.
There was no point after I ejaculated into a sock.
Then watched as my dog sniffed it. I shooed her away
While laughing with disgust.
But maybe that’s how sperm and egg should be treated,
Maybe if we stripped off our flesh,
Instead of our clothes.
Pleasure would exist in the completion
Instead of the act.
For I believe there’s no purpose to it all.
And if I didn’t look like an ape
After I castrated myself,
I would’ve clipped my testicles off
There’s enough passion
Within my sullen ego
To explain death
As the most romantic climax.
Sasha Grey just came up on Google.
I altered my search settings,
So that I could get some killing done.