Forgetting Mind Rape

You led me on a walk down complacency lane,
even as you tried to boil life down to borderline depravity
with inverted pleasures spinning,
your windmill of puscasious delirium non-stop.

Lashing me to the mast of your storm drenched perversions,
a venal duty of cleansing you called it,
you commanded an army of deception
awash with the residue of soft-shell Cyclops,
who like needle eyed centaurs roiled
an eternal molten blitzkrieg
of your brine and slithering lies,
assaulting my padded cell of gauze veiled survival.

You who dared to be a sanity upheavalist,
to brazen your way into my flicker housed memories
of Eisenstein, Wells, Fellini, and Godard,
obliterating the acoustics of my inner-sound stage
like the venal hum of locust wings battling for more, more, more.

You dared infect my Louvre of life's images
with hallucinogenic hyperbole,
turning my sanctuary into a
mustard green madhouse of singed and scorched wormholes
threatening the nitrate ancestors of my digital archives.

And you asked why?

Why I should disallow orgiastic glaring
turn my pastels into an epileptic seizure,
reduce me to a hummingbird locked in the jaws of a crocodile
slipping back into the primeval ooze
of your legacy's tar pits?

My Pollack inspired synapses
clung to Sartre orchestrated lullabies of consciousness.
While you flung your Molotov Cocktail of cleansing fire,
I experienced as the red dawn of slumber's revolution,
the mud honey taste of gelatinous mass,
I did in fact survive.

When was it?

When did you decide to inflict cardiac tattoos
upon my life cave of hieroglyphs,
my grotto of submerged etchings,
those cacophonous echoes of the past?

Was it way back in your debaucherous wait,
while the cream on the pie spoiled into
maggot infested moldiferous delectos
that you felt shocked at my awakening?

Or…

Was it your shock matched only by the bullfrog glower
as you pushed forward the final decree,
influenced by a frenzy-friendly
all dramatic female jury?

Well...

Your war drums are muffled,
your gender based insurgency stifled,
your psycho drama now behind the blood drenched
curtains of the final act.

Even as you tried to vandalize the poetry of my dreams,
know their redeemed safety is now sequestered in the forever ever.

You failed to banish the smiles-ghost muse that now walks across my face
as delectable savory of the mind.

Beware…

If ever again you trumpet your arrival,
the sweep of my cape will keep concealed a final denouement,
but only for that moment of pity.

Yes, beware… and take care of yourself.