PLEASURE
They told me that it has to be earned or bought.
That it is a performance of sorts.
That the appearance of pleasure is what the people want.
Never mind if you faked it, or are faking it now.
So long as you appear embodied.
A real woman knows what she wants, they say.
But embodiment starts with the child,
with the simple pleasures of being alive.
Screaming, thrashing orgasm has its place,
but do you know about the sun on your skin?
The dirt under your feet crumbles as you walk,
leaving a dusting of powder that changes their color to pale,
inviting the question, Goddess or Ghost?
Pleasure is a journey that has no relation to any destination.
Pleasure just wants to be invited, to take her time as she travels,
acquiring new ways of experiencing herself,
over and over again.