A Cultists Wet Dream
dancing in a world they can’t perceive
as if to them it’s all some innocent mystery
in their own world they are socially
though sense things that others can’t see
sound and light bouncing geometrically
moving with the music like a fairy
makes you feel as natural as a tree
but missing shadows behind the leaves
made dubious connections with your beliefs
lost in your mind but it sets you free
that’s when they start charging a fee
and then one day you are touched underneath…
he says,
I’m the one who meets you in your bed
I’m the damp that inhabits your inside leg
I’m what’s in your throat when you wretch
I’m the noose dangling around your neck
I’m the doubt that’s pulsating your head
I’m the egg shells on which you tread
I’m a glass of cyanide that’ll make you dead
I’m the very image of your dread
and I’ll be the one to give you blessings,
upon your death…

© ThePoetVulpes