Lady Siren (Marilyn Monroe)

She had everything. I was drawn to her like a moth to the light. She was mythical and beautiful like the 8 wonders of the world. She was alluring and ungraspable like water. She flowed straight into my structure of being. She mesmerized me and left me thinking of what could be. She hijacked my rational faculties and left my body in comatose – paralyzed and enslaved by her voice, it wasn’t that it was angelic but rather that it had a certain quality that bypassed my conscious mind. She spoke in a tone that was poised and almost tired, it was low pitched and effortless, almost resigned with a hint of would you like a Fellatio? Her eyes were suggestive and inquisitive. It was as if they wanted to know your dirtiest fantasies and part-take in them, as the leading lady – they demanded that credit, demanded to be the star, demanded to control and possess your body like a demon. Her posture, how she stood was a wet dream. She was phallic, completely erected on the ground like the Eiffel tower. A sight to see, there was no one quite like; her she commanded attention! Her walk was the stuff of legends. It was peculiar and affirmed in a way that made her a star on the runway. She was the brightest star in a universe filled with hydrogen and helium – explosive and her body was the bomb! She had the best boobs in the world – not that I have seen them but I have thought and fantasied about them. Not quite your watermelons but matured coconuts in the Savannah. Firm coconuts. Coconuts that can fit in your hands. Coconuts that can make all your dreams come true. The type of coconuts that had my mind spinning out of control – she was dangerous and she came with a label like tobacco. Addictive, I couldn’t help thinking about her and all her features. I was whipped a slave, confined within the looped structure of my brain. She was a sex symbol that I wanted to possess, every inch of her body I wanted my lips to touch, every organism would elect me in the realm of the gods – gratifying her sexual desires would be my purpose in life. She was a goddess, a work of mastery like Leonardo Da Vinci’s “Mona Lisa”, cavorted and renowned like the soccer World Cup and as such only cunnilingus will do anointed and knighted by the serpent in the bible. She was dangerous. Purposely stringing me along to hang myself. The more I chased, the more I lost control. The more I attached myself, the more she detached herself – a strategic, calculated ploy on her side. She was cold, whenever I told myself I was done, she would open her legs from a far provoking themes and images of heaven; it never occurred to me that it was just illusions. She was my escape, my ultimate fantasy. She represented a total release. She transported me to a realm of pure bliss and pleasure. She was a siren – striking and loud! An entity you cannot ignore but also subtle and indirect in a way that she made me fill in the blanks. Sure, I was repressed but she was better. She is an intelligent human being. She is my African Cleopatra, my Marilyn Monroe, she resembles Lucifer and acquainted me with the beautiful feeling of suffering, she taught me about love and projections – she is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love her; My Marilyn Monroe.

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