Demons in the wallpaper

I know an emperor (in His own mind)
Who adores me because I am
The only one who will tell Him
He is completely nude
(And in fluorescent light),
The only one in His company
Who will raise one brow and bark,
"Don't do that!"
He is demolishing His fifth wife,
He, 53, she, 31, a weaning baby involved.
His secretary has given Him
Perfunctory blow jobs for twenty years.
(Her wrinkles have started to disgust him
For the last five.)
But she is such a loyal employee
And NEVER has anything more important
And lives for the moment, between grunts
When He whines,
"You look beautiful with my cock in
Your mouth!"
Vehicle blow jobs,
Warm flesh as convenient
As a blow-up doll.
I worshipped Him for three hours
In a shadowy hotel
After a confusing meal of shrimp fettuccini
That had a metallic under taste.
I saw myself in his fractured eyes
And turned my back.
"You're looking for demons
In the wallpaper!" he wailed.
With the Dark One's
Montblanc in your hand.

Rebecca Lu Kiernan

If you've any comments on this poem, Rebecca Lu Kiernan would be pleased to hear from you.