Dragula’s Blood Potion Insurrection

It’s hard to buy in to both-sidesism when Growing factions believe we feast on the blood Of tortured toddlers they swear they defend Waging pale crusades, injecting normal context With sterilized horror singling out drag queens

Satanists! Satanists! cries a pudgy 5’3” as he’s dragged out by two butches, after a lead paint dinner muscle heads convince themselves it’s revolutionary to tweet out a sweaty bathroom pic of their bare pecs superiority, criticizing everything to cling to relevance thinly-veiled hatred for their own identity, it’s sad

Ms. Olga Zempic of Denmark takes the stage You know it really touches my soul, brings a tear to my lazy eye. Getting ridiculed by a fat and balding alcoholic feels just like Daddy. I dipped into his urn to blend out my smoky eye this evening so i’ll try my best not to cry anymore of this fatty liver beat off my face.

night of cash, laughter, lip syncs in clouds of vcr cleaner vapors, teens with bright hair dye and chest binders, i’m thinking back on turning eighteen on the dancefloor as Born This Way played into midnight, how coming out felt the next morning after queens pulled me on stage to celebrate

belonging, headlines and threads dim our love showing rights rescinded or queerness criminalized, psycho babble, raving blog thread rottweilers going on and on about adrenal gland blood potions and Baphomet statues driving more traffic to that goat-headed hag than actual occultists

it’s hard to dance on beat when you sense time slipping backwards, grinding in horny seas of sliding hips, still scared and hollow, too timid too fatigued to throw ass endless whining excusing hostility to fun, every night could be your last, fuck your backache, greet, embrace

girl, dump him, he’s gay, sway, shake off your sad dance dangerously, drive that finance cuck insane shame creeps into obscurity, queerness is a glittered watershed, baby it’s a calling, your founding mothers didn’t die for nothing Paris, Texas is pussy pink burning escape the ivory tower, turn screens off, live in the now

get vicious on the dance floor, rip a new slit, ate, tore get called brave by a het bachelorette bumming cigs teach Shannon how to serve cunt, request Arca at the DJ booth hear only Ariana, puff a blunt in the name of Beyonce, Gaga, Madonna, stay sober too

dance like a slut, catch the eye of a forgettable breathe heavy before lips meet, taste the drink on his tongue humor his interests in creatine and gym or stocks and bonds mishear bondage, get turned on, head back to his place swallow fuck like a demon never call him again say i’m such a terrible person, laugh

ever since Pulse life’s felt grim, dance, kiss, grieve exercise the right to exist and express your beauty know that you are loved to no end by the Divine don’t invest in those who seek to make you less at least you know how to find a shade match

whoever comes for a Mother’s kids with martial missionary missives from tradition’s bland, drab base will never know peace, silence, tinnitus will ravage ear columns, madness will consume each and every last transphobe, find what fits and feels like you, God loves you, we won’t let blood libel

run

Czech Hunter

I want my next Him hot, despondent, Slavic             Actualize my kid Dracula obsession At the end of the day I’m serving up Midwest Hotdish All for Lucifer’s disinterest, endless passive substitutions For loving comments until even head is a boring Approximation for speaking the same tongue             His thoughts aren’t as deep as his member He cleans the mirror when he’s done watching hips thrust            Bang! Punch! Pow! Inside me Always reminds me to blend the concealer on hickeys I have the net worth of a back alley hooker a            Pastor’s son pussy uhn the Buried rage of a housewife who never gets some Damsel slumming it for some mirror selfie sharing idiot           Buff Guy Save Me! One bump away from forgetting I exist

Barad-dûr

should’ve clocked you’re one of those gays who stands and scans the crowd from the dancefloor outskirts should’ve known you’d appear right as the touch thirst erupts, your sight beams spreading dark gospel percolates the club your dark grip sprouts a coldness deep in me i try to breathe but your eye is too bright drink strong i run home home path blurs who, is, is there?

Suspiriorum

twisted witchcraft under still, moonlit stormclouds skimming skin off palms to wrap around dolls i toss in the toaster, stripped fingers

singe and burn as i bend & snap each limb on your poppet then drown it in dry burgundy & juniper berries, ash of burnt hair

rub florida water into my skinless hands to cleanse brutality gives you power keeps you linked to my life story, you’re a ghoul

haunting my head when i dance at a club i imagine you in a room flying then slamming at each wall end- ing like Olga’s broken body