Tuesday, September 18, 2007

The Vision from Within


Inside
my mind
I find a whole
wide
world
of erotica –
One where
ANYTHING
goes.

One where fantasies
fornicate into dreamlike
reality.

One where images of
flesh fluctuate
in the lowlight
that I cast.


I float down
the corridor
of desire and,
from time to time,
I stop
and watch
through the keyholes
and spy holes -
I see any scene
that I want,
I see secrets
slide into
erotic actuality.

My phallus rises with
the heat.


It is then that
I become obsessed
with the images
that I've retained from
Arthur Schnitzel's
Dream Story,
as well as with the images in
Stanley Kubrick's
Eyes Wide Shut.

I can see the
sumptuous surroundings
and the masked nakedness.

I can see myself hiding behind
a delicate mask of my
own making.

I can see the sights around me and
I tremble at the
visions of orgies and of
copulating couples,
perfect in their shape and form.

I float through it all,
watching,
my lust alive,
my loins on fire.

I see a woman -
one woman
who encompasses all
women.

A Goddess.

Slowly we come together,
with arms outstretched.

We are both naked and
the moment our lips touch
I am already inside of her -
Her cunt is celestial.

There is a sudden violent burst
from Beethoven.
(It sounds as it is
Missa Solemnis)
Our bodies spasm
in synch and
we fuck as one
within the motions
of the music.

After the onslaught
of orgasm
I feel empty,
so horrifically empty.

I open my eyes and I am
alone.

I am lying
upon a bed of soft
satin.

There is a painting on the wall,
it is of a sunset
by Turner.

The bed feels
as if it is an island,
one that is vast,
cut off.

I feel abandoned,
it is a feeling of horror
and there
is nothing within me
but a sadness
that sheds itself in one
solitary tear.

I see this in a
mirror,
in my mirror.

I look around my room
and quickly I drown in its
quietude.






Matthew Coleman

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