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Business exec
Bedroom roughneck
Boss of hard sex
Sado dominatrix
On all fours boot licks
Play the game who’s next
Whip and a strapon
Open up get it long
Swingin like Barry Bonds
Futanari hard on
It’s a stress reliever
You should’ve seen her
Master and slave main feature
Thin line between pleasure and pain
She gives so good she blows your brain
Stuck up suit this is new terrain
Leather and riding crops
Ball gags and seldom stops
In the zone with the sexy props
In the mood she so contrary
She’s so done with missionary
Fetish queen she legendary

Everything becomes old hack, cliches, trite junkie phrases polluting congested airways. Neoliberals, neocons, consumer culture, race baiting. It’s as if any idea becomes limp and annoying to short attention idlers, they’ve heard it before so your attitude of raising awareness is brushed aside like so much Canadian snow. They know it already but do not do anything about it, most of us do that but might chip in a few good karma to the cause. These ideas may be pervasive but they’re falling on ears petrified by apathy and indulgence in the sicko society. Others prepare booster shots awaiting the time to innoculate, hot iron pressingly waiting in the back room, close the curtains please.

We take the lot and follow suit, playing hands of low combos. We burn the wicker man and wonder where our heroes are. Safely tucked away in high thread count sheets barking at paltry sensational news bitlets devoid of substance; marrow, food for the intellectual spirit. Grubs for thought; little melted marshmallows dripping past the mouth. We laugh at the media circus with popcorn in hand not trying to prop up the tent anymore. Fifth estate in shambles opining about what once was, the intergrity of the relics. Messy piles of mudpies for the slinging contestants. Hurling abrasives at those with differing views, ideology the bricks in this Lego tower. Let’s connect something new.

What is good? I don’t know what is good. What is potential? I know not what it is, what it ought to be. Is it the lucid dream coming forth from shadow realms, teeming as it does with force major? Is it kinetic energy distilled into an awakening of pristine action? Crystalline shards pulsing and beaming with the forgotten hopes of cherub child breaking beneath the weight of its dimensions. Little pokes and prods, tasks tasks and duty come down upon the crowned head. Hitting brick walls and mansions, suffocating under the stench of other’s hopes and faith. Stifling wishes, girded regrets, iron butterfly on the up and up, cover self to protect self.

I am the walking terror drone, left foot right foot on we go, picking pieces as we go, nothing but a raving show. Stop. Give a lot get a little, shared energy rising, burning. A thousand suns glaring red hot mamas into orbital cycles. Crispy skin animals grasping melting skin, dwindling dervishes twirling to the ground, underneath lays a new life for all. Molemen stowaways making life anew. Dirt and sod, the laughing cows, praying for something new. What we get we take for granted, what we owe we take as unfair, what be our purpose is the life we must now live. Is it fair? Heaven knows. What is good?  I do not know.

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