NOVEMBRE

 8/11

 

1919.SUITE

 

1   1.Wetness gathers in drops under the nostrils first

    Then springs and runs so suddenly down the hollow valleys

    And bony ridges

    The very same sharp bones

    That protrude at odd angles beneath the soft loose undescript fabric

 

    -If I only had known, I would never have touched you-

    -The skunks the bags of dirt the dogs so piously sorry

    So demurely regretful, never before, though

    Having stuck their fat slick wieners into some side of me-

    The murmur drones hypnotically round and round

    Muffled

    Insisting

    So surprisingly mad

    The tone

    A mortally dangerous rashness

    For a whore

 

    Those gorgeous tears, now in narrow rivulets

    On craggy surface-

    Lick, even them

    They taste special

    -With friends like this

    Fool

    You won’t ever need enemies-

 

2   2.So very lightly made up

    The eyelashes are dark, though

    The creature’s been canute all his life

    A wonder how nothing is so real even when faked

    As tears

    Playing a beloved one

    Not one but two but three

    A mob of charachters

    Crowding the inner space

    Morphing into a diamond-hard core

    Delivered through unspeakable savagery

    Rape

    Scourge

    Mutilation

    Crucifixion

    Death

    And rape

    In an unending brainless loop

 

To be continued ?

 

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 22/11 

Happy slave smiling willing slave I am not possessed any more than I AM the murmurer

A dream? to dream the second stanza of the suite

30/11

all week poring over the pale wraith instead  the thrill of being the willing one the lewd one the accomplished whore