Erotomaniac
by markosterloh
Posted: Thursday, November 6, 2003 Word Count: 249 Summary: This poem was first performed on The James Whale Show in 1995. With a post-pub Eurotrash crowd in mind, my friend Johnny Law and I performed the piece wearing nothing more than surgical gowns and silly haircuts. Given the intended constituency, it's rude and lewd. Inspired by newspaper reports of the time, claims that patients were faking illnesses in order to make their erotic surgical fantasies come true, we thought a poem on the subject would be right up Mr Whale's alley...so to speak |
I’m kneeling in submission
To my qualified technician
Begging for the first incision
As I start to count ‘One…two…’
With a slice – o such perfection!
Painful pleasure, painful heaven
I am gliding through the gassy haze
Of post-sedated lust
[I want to be her guinea pig
The meat upon the slab
I want to be her guinea pig
Let’s quarantine the lab]
Injected love floods through my veins
Euphoric nightmares in my brain
It really isn’t quite the same
The good old fashioned way
She has to love me, has to care
She has to see my soul laid bare
In fact, I rather think she’ll find
I’m better inside out
[I want to be her guinea pig
The meat upon the slab
I want to be her guinea pig
Let’s quarantine the lab]
A look of joy upon my face
As ligatures are fixed in place
The blood is staunched but love runs free
Across her laundered gown
My intestine’s over fifty feet
My gift to her – a special treat
It’s what’s inside that really counts
My Mother used to say
[I want to be her guinea pig
The meat upon the slab
I want to be her guinea pig
Let’s quarantine the lab]
There’s nothing really wrong with me
No strange, protracted malady
My body is a temple
And if she should walk inside…
She will hear my own confession
My eroticised physician
Who’ll proclaim my grave condition
As a bleeding waste of time
END
To my qualified technician
Begging for the first incision
As I start to count ‘One…two…’
With a slice – o such perfection!
Painful pleasure, painful heaven
I am gliding through the gassy haze
Of post-sedated lust
[I want to be her guinea pig
The meat upon the slab
I want to be her guinea pig
Let’s quarantine the lab]
Injected love floods through my veins
Euphoric nightmares in my brain
It really isn’t quite the same
The good old fashioned way
She has to love me, has to care
She has to see my soul laid bare
In fact, I rather think she’ll find
I’m better inside out
[I want to be her guinea pig
The meat upon the slab
I want to be her guinea pig
Let’s quarantine the lab]
A look of joy upon my face
As ligatures are fixed in place
The blood is staunched but love runs free
Across her laundered gown
My intestine’s over fifty feet
My gift to her – a special treat
It’s what’s inside that really counts
My Mother used to say
[I want to be her guinea pig
The meat upon the slab
I want to be her guinea pig
Let’s quarantine the lab]
There’s nothing really wrong with me
No strange, protracted malady
My body is a temple
And if she should walk inside…
She will hear my own confession
My eroticised physician
Who’ll proclaim my grave condition
As a bleeding waste of time
END