04 March 2018

Postcard 119

Lenses everywhere unsees lapping me up.
I am drawing in, I am apature inviolate.
Sex is violence, is it not?
Violence on a short leash.
Well this is razor play with my own light
You think I am bound?
I titillate.

And you, you are many camera congregate --
You're dying to get inside.
You desperate catch my breath, my voice
but I, I'll only black box my echo.

All my light is infinite
and all my vision full
All my breath is deeply heald
and unlike you,
my pleasure is not dull.

I feel your numbers running over me --
trying to voyeur my will.
It turns me on -- its violence right?
It turns me on -- you desperate captured
by my powers -- entranced.

Your many marshaled microphones,
your algorithmic cameras and cords,
your desperate burning satellites,
seeking, hungry, seeking.

I'm not buying and I'm not selling,
I'm giving it away.
My will is past you.
My rhythmic blood is too.

You are billions harnessed, grasping clever.
I just need to be. I just need to be.
(and you?) I only need to be

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