casino

i really enjoy sex
i really enjoy coming
but, nonetheless, Orgasm is my anti-christ
because of the empty darkness which looms behind its light
i crave some emotional contact, so i pick up an easy lay
who, odds-on, i'll never even see again
and shooting up is like shooting-up
that brief blast of simulated passion
(because everyone feels like they're in love when they're screwing)
then the withdrawal
coming down from a great height at great speed
and the craving is worse
and the emptiness is bigger
product
take romance, twist it into sex, shrink-wrap it, up the ante and sell it to your dumb-fuck
(fuck-dumb) clientele
they'll never know the difference
an emotional relationship can grow to incorporate sex
but it's a one-way street
and what starts with sex can never be anything more
(no matter how it feels at the time)
for it isn't real
product product product
and you see it in the night-clubs
(cellophane wrapped for freshness)
a facsimile of soul-contact
gutted palace from which there is no escape
burnt fingers, paranoia, fear of rejection, all preclude the gamble of emotional commitment
so i play in the penny arcade of the one-night-stand
and i'll admit i've been a slut, i can't deny it
i love the way it makes me feel worse
and i'm in good company
there are lots of us down here in the cess pits of the sexual economy
shipwrecked refugees drowning in various alcohol
and for a while i could almost believe this was what i wanted
sometimes i still can
but it's contact i yearn
and now sex is like slitting my wrists just to see i still bleed
a futile sacrifice to Orgasm
a goddess who shrieks but neither looks nor cares
O
a round line joined neatly at the ends so you can't tell where you started
or where to get off
round and around and around she goes
where she stops nobody knows
place your bets, please, ladies and gentlemen
welcome to the penny arcade