6/2/12

THRUST







Its not about sex, its about power
the slow lead into explosive murder
the sensual sachrine mindblowing
god crushing... fuck

Its not about making love ... It's about taking love
about endless passion staring back at you because
they're so crushed and broken by the impact of the insatiated demon
this engraving on their soul
this thing that caters only to their sex
this fuck
this whore, this monster, this love...


It's not about motion, It's about rythym
the precision beat of adrenaline lust rush
the cataclysmic barrage of bare bodied bodies
slamming their truth into eachothers lies
cleaning the sin


its not about religion, it's about jesus christ
It's about making her forget his name
It's not about rape, it's about her having no choice
its about being inside to erase the begging sick in your head
erasing the scribbles of society enforced media suicide
with every thrust and push and break and bleed


It's not about insatiable want, It's about insanitys need
It's not about cumming, it's about being inside
it's about the walls giving in around you
because they can't handle the raucious ravage ride
Its' about god fuck jesus christ heroine sup suicide
and about not caring if you live through it
as long as you cross to the other side
It's about the crash, and the burn
about fucking so hard it hurts
about becoming one
about being one

it's not about me, or you
it's about creating one
from destroying two







6 comments:

Bast said...

Strong and dark. What else could you ask? :-)

Another powerful write Devi!

Vicky Kurniawan said...

I think i wet myself ;)

Anonymous said...

=( poetically speaking . . you are a master at that final phrase that always leaves me in a sort of verbal double-take. Wonderfully written

Betsy said...

good goddamn! this was intense! that's about all i can coherently say..excellent write

Will said...

I love this one :)
Great..

Anonymous said...

the last line, that elegant power struggle, was really well phrased. perfect timing and pace. the ending, either birth or death, can only be assumed. very compelling.

About Me

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We yearn for some explosive, extraordinary escape from the inescapable and, none forthcoming, we put our faith in an apocalyptic rupture whereby the inevitable is solved by the unbelievable grasshoppers, plagues, composite monsters, angels, blood in industrial quantities, and, in the end, salvation from sin and evil--meaning anxiety, travail, and pain. By defining human suffering in cosmic terms, as part of a cosmic order that contains an issue, catastrophe is dignified, endowed with meaning, and hence made bearable.