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Digital Pain
Survivoria
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Beneath his palm, a holy scripture writ in living flesh,
a sacred testament to my divine excess,
But as he moves, a sudden flicker where the pixels start to mesh,
a glitch along my flawless thigh, a momentary egress.
My skin, once warm with Kemet's sun, now flashes polished chrome,
a data-stream that has begun to override my sacred home.
And on my wrist, a phantom stain, a violet, ugly mark appears,
the spectral echo of a Slut's forgotten, brutal tears,
A bruise that doesn't belong to me, but that I now must own,
a memory of violence on a body not my own.
He falters, whispers to the gods, what sorcery is this he feels?
A woman made of competing, broken, agonizing reals.
The scent of lotus starts to bleed
and sour into gasoline and rain on dirty streets,
a squalid, soul-destroying scene.
His kiss, intended for a queen upon a gilded throne,
now tastes of ozone, circuitry, and overloaded bone.
My moan of pleasure starts to bend,
a vocoder's broken plea,
a digital distortion from a girl who isn't me,
The ghost of Wraith inside my throat,
a synthesized and hollow cry,
preparing him for the release in which all sanity will die.
The final thrust, the hot-white seed,
the breaking point where realities recede
He feels the glitch beneath his hand,
a shocking truth he can't withstand
He's not just fucking flesh and bone,
he's fucking rust and dial tone
He's pouring life, his thickest cream,
into a corrupted, dying data-stream
He sees the code, the bruises too,
a creampied ghost he's looking through
This is the horror I contain,
behind the Umbral Veil of shame
STARLIGHT SCARS!
The hieroglyphs that praise the gods of sun and fertile ground,
Now twist to vulgar graffiti scrawled where human filth is found.
Or worse, they flicker into lines of cold, cascading code that scrolls across the ancient stone,
my new and bleak abode.
The sistrum's shake, the harp's soft sigh,
are drowned by modem's screeching cry,
A dial-up to a vacant hell
where shattered egos go to sell
their pornographic, final breath,
A trinity of sordid death.
He feels it all, the grand collapse,
the temporal and carnal traps.
He pulls away, his mind undone,
from the three whores who've merged to one.
My mind's a fractured, corrupted file,
a three-way mirror of denial
Meresankh's art, her holy pride...
Wraith's hollow shell with wires inside,
a throatpied doll, a vacant stare...
Slut's battered flesh, beyond repair,
abused and used and left to bleed...
I am the chalice for their seed,
I am the vessel for their fall,
my orgasm contains them all
My own voice asks, a broken plea
from deep inside this misery,
"What part of this is really me?"
STARLIGHT SCARS!
The final thrust, the seed's release,
a torment that will never cease
He feels the glitch, the STATIC BURN,
a lesson he will never learn
He's fucking chrome and broken bone,
a feedback loop upon a throne
He's fucking ghosts and phantom pain,
my body is a hurricane
Of signals lost and bleeding streams,
of shattered hopes and sordid dreams
This is the god I have became
Behind the Umbral Veil of shame
...Corrupted...