Mood Swings Episode # 3

     
When waking      
Up to moments like this    
I always feel the need to release    
In a peculiar fashion      
This is the moment where  
Poetry becomes a form    
Of metaphysical masturbation    
Come...take a slow stroll      
Through this maze of eye    
As I ejaculate my thoughts    
Into the blind spot of your psyche      
You can always claim      
You never saw me coming
If you're ever blamed
For what may happen here    
     
But you felt me coming...    
     
Felt the multidimensional movement      
Of my desire swell for you    
And it is here where    
My intentions spread out      
Like the limbs of a giant lurking octopus    
Groping all the wondrous elements      
Of the woman that is you..    
Mystifying you as I spew my      
Vantablack ink like substance      
Within your subterranean currents..    
With the sole purpose of imprinting    
My epitaph upon your soul...    
I want you to wear my essence      
Like a velvet cloak      
Smother you under the pressure      
Of masculine energy      
Condensed into human form. ..    
Urgent like a muthafucka. .    
Feel me?..    
     
Sighhh..    
     
You know damned well    
These mood swings      
Ain't the least bit manageable    
Just make me wanna assault your senses      
From every angle imaginable. .    
Got me in hunter gatherer mode.    
Primitive and persistent    
Cerebrally stalking you    
Leaving you with no comfort zone    
Restless...throbbing..squirming    
With your intuition tightening      
Around your insides like a tourniquet      
Inducing gut reactions in low guttural growls..    
Like a beautiful tigress on all fours    
Ass up..face down    
Waiting to feel thrust after thrust      
Of intellectual stimulation from behind      
As you remain bent over in    
That doggy-deluxe position I love    
So much    
     
Let's take this erotic inquisition      
Further into the depths of      
My mental dungeon      
Where the forfeiture of freedom      
Is the only prerequisite      
And we can do away with poetic etiquette      
Cuz no one will ever hear the wails      
Of your inner banshee down here    
As I plunge in and out of your imagination      
With abstract imagery    
Painting mosaics of chaotic eruptions      
Across the walls of your mind      
Bathing you in creamy inspiration    
Until I spill every last drop of    
All that was bulging beneath me    
When I awoke this morning.