Fantasy Factory

Ecstatic cults and orgiastic rites

That’s the world I live in

A Dionysian overlay on modern life.

Sex is a play of intertwined serpents

Touching each other, intermingling tongues

Letting their roots commune in a divine exchange of energies.

I am paid to organize those in easily consumable, packaged little clips

Snipets for my fellow humans to feast on

To redirect their base urges

Stemming from a biological function, an appetite for sexual diversity

Co-opted by a very smart industry.

Snakes and ladders, snakes and holes

Buttons we press on each other

Flesh grinding against flesh

Thoughts emerge, intrusive

They evaporate as the animal body claims us back

To pay attention to this moment

This divine instant where separate beings

Reach into one another

The marriage of the sun and the moon.

Taking and giving

In what can only be a holy exchange of everything

Manifested in the most crass of ways.

Skin against skin and – wait, it’s too pink

I should make the tones a bit more yellow

Since that’s the note I got on my last scene.

I am the rearranger of your desires

I know which buttons to press to make you feel good

The feedback loop from body and voice

That mimics what this universe is doing

Just exploding back and forth from void to existence.

This cycle of life is what we’re celebrating, on a micro level.

Except that no, it’s just these monkeys rubbing their bodies together.

Oo oo Aa aa

What the fuck are we doing? What the fuck is the cosmos doing?

Just BHRBEZHZZZ In and Out, In and Out, all the time.

This senseless game that it’s playing with itself… with each other? With itself?

I don’t know anymore. I really don’t.

Alright monkey, put your clothes on.

Time to go to work.

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