Orgasmic Phoenix

 
In my solitude
My meditations
Intellectual stimulations
To set down work into a form concretized by my hands
I am patient, yet furious
Hasty, but with care
Shaping the the letters into words
Transforming the words into meanings
And tying the thread from each part to the next to give it a wholeness.  
 
It is there. Together. But it lays on the table. Lifeless.  
Like Frankenstein freshly dug up. Put together by three parts human, one part dead.  
Where is the fifth element?
How do I arouse the vitality in this creation?
 
I continue to stare longer at my Frankenstein.
With neither the heavenly bestowment or scientific understanding to invoke this beast into life.  
I stare longer and it starts to corrode. Decompose before my eyes.  
The dead is dying.  
 
The frustration is overwhelming  
Overstimulated, I have to escape the prison of thoughts  
I can't help, but in this state
But to search for an outlet
An escape  
A release
My intellect has weighed heavy that needs countering
A balance to break the synaptic pattern  
A catharsis.  
 
My groin begins to seek attention
Feeling the stirrings below
My cock, still in its youthful state
Wants acknowledgement
And soon after matures in my hands
To a strong, steady and hard member
Stroking it far better than my ego,
I give special attention to the head
Bringing pleasure to all my senses
Raising the breath
Quicker and faster
Feeling the fire rise within me
Until my mind is blown out
And my name is no longer known
And I shout the sounds of a religious expression  
 
I lay there. Panting.  
Heavy from excitement.  
Tired from action
As I dissolve into unconsciousness.  
 
Upon waking.  
The world is new.  
Potential of anything.  
Possibilities are endless.  
I feel like creating.  
I will sit down and forge by my own hands
Creating something to last forever.  
Let me contemplate what I want to create.