Silver coins tossed into the air

come crashing down beside me

They spin and pirouette like ballet dancers

who just so happen to be on my bed

Its like a decadent cabaret —

 

my coffee is my liquor,

my coins are my dancers —

each sensual spin corresponds

to a cresting inside my chest

My inner thighs flood with heat

and my tongue wets my lips

I yearn for that resounding chime

of coins landing into my palm.

 

My fingers trail a path of consumerist lust

The course of the room reveals the extent —

a computer from Dubai

which reveals hidden delights online at night

a vase from China

gripping a bouquet of lilies tight

a book from America

filling my head with intimate whispers

pineapple from Costa Rica

swirling sweetness around my tongue like a lollipop.

 

I have played with the patriarchy’s cock

and now I want nothing more to suck it up

To be fucked by capitalism

until I’m sore and until I have nothing left to give,

And for all my possessions to fill that empty space,

where a beating flesh heart used to live.

 

 

Image: No copyright infringement intended // taken from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NzX4xZL3Yys