from

Approximate Lovers

(Downtown Materialaktion)

published by Bone Orchard Press

 

 

Out of The Toy Box

 

pussycat:

mechanical windup

crawling to the wall

she pulled out several strands of her hair

 

to craft a new mask before she goes outdoors

face the audience

with mouth juice luminescent

 

in blue-purple-black water mist shadows

like an internegative she generates copies

she crucified the swan after her violation

 

her climax was comprised of white noise and spermatozoa

hairdos you can do yourself

ready the nerve endings from

 

pain magazines as she reaches the transition state

on the run wet wild crazed

sometimes featuring cover illustrations

 

all in color faded

as she watched

the more turned on she got

 

the more the statue wept

dirty skirt. that's right,

sucking air through clenched teeth

 

did not change the equilibrium

flesh without molecules the figures melded

a year after living in the absolute embryo

 

she craved it deep down inside

naked watching them it’s acidic

throes of auditory satisfaction

 

swells out swells inside

she lets a handful from her fingers fly out

cuddles in the numbness afterwards

 

a persuasion of related anesthetics

a dribbled-out perversion

doppelganger killed

 

her eyes became so cloudy

anesthetic murder

she liked watching them

 

necromancy:

she felt out of place right now

her cravings won out at last

she climaxed

 

without touch

just seeing it was enough

destroyed image

 

sensory deprivation

she was arrested

on 3 separate occasions

 

a bonding with Satan

a taste of black satin

pages engraved

 

obscene diagrams for fascination

smell of mildew

scythe of plasma bloodstained

 

white gown

single drop of red on each eyelid

calliope heaving

 

heaven is closer to her

she can feel its cold claws

a touch on her shoulder

 

a frostbite kiss

dark green lake

oil slick to cover a face

 

in her room she becomes nonexistent

mirrors null

clock oozes

 

mouth on wetness

burn and brine

brain cast into water

 

why are you here?

camera on

trying to become a star

 

 

 

Drive-In Intermission

 

a countess licks the wall

she said she would send photos

to her husband

whenever she was in pleasure

fingered now unbuttoned

touched and not forgotten

burnt wardrobe ashes cast

deep hard kisses

there lay the ingénues

sexual figurine first vamp

her sign lurked

figure cast in black iron

 

placed the hands on the legs

make-up tests of domesticity

standing in an anagram so naturally

trying out her name

nearby lay a hit-and-run

kiss me before I die

 

she suckled a black bird at dawn

smiling as her flesh warmed gradually

kiss me before I die

washed sins clean abruptly

 

she was masquerading as a gamine

cloaked in fluid cool

synchronized player pianos transmitting code

she re-hooked replaced the profile

arrested for shoplifting

as she unhooked her bra

across her tongue productions

empty corset and gloves pointed in her direction

 

lived for acting amorously

reincarnated several times as brow-beaten

she was basically made and stumbled silently

one critic jerked absurdly and expired exquisitely

in tune with the setting sun and collapsing buildings

let’s all go to the food stand and imagine real fucking

wet fingers dance

wet fingers touch

oddball men experiments

disproving the scientific method

 

 

 

Mondo Cane 13 (Transient Gamine Overdrive)

 

1. she had run away a long time ago. frenzied women in the abandoned structure, the oracle is ravaged for a new degradation and shelf life, mocking included. the lust request remains unanswered as she reached her hands out, she was simultaneously heated and frozen in the street. name the faces. count the victims. she refused to comply with the ruling. “you should be subcutaneously injected with poison,” she stated. across the room is a collection of linear idolaters. she had run away a long time ago.

 

2. silhouettes covered in dew. a direct line to the gods. blasphemy and ridicule mixed with truth and silence. broken up as mirrors, cosmetics, fine dresses. pleasured in the room that always remains hidden. a jigsaw of emotional outbursts. they re-established the collection of priests before setting them aflame before killing them with a ball-pein hammer. coagulation. her words failed her she had no answer. smashed and grabbed what she could take. sirens in the distance, vehicles approaching.

 

3. she descended to all fours, rabid in the twilight. the smell of her fluid intoxicated the previous victims. this was about 3 weeks ago, when the lunar eclipse happened and vision was obscured. the women dressed to accentuate their nipples. it was a product of sarin gas that they used to conquer. love became a nerve agent, as did worship of her body. twisted nerves were tasted. a source of divination. critics were banned at first then banished to the desert. the slaves engaged in intriguing sexual activities.

 

4. after 7 days they knelt down and worshipped at her bare pussy. weak from a plague-ridden quest they publicly burned thousands upon thousands of unrealistic aspirations. teardrops splashed. the words burned through her, she was a fresco of lust, vibrating red in plaster. earth dragons kissed then made love in the burnt-out field. the casting calls had begun. documentaries about the deaths were produced and distributed quickly. the third eye was gouged out and fed to the dove.

 

5. what to do when your lovemaking gets stale. sex signals that won’t be turned down. fighting can be sexy. the oracle was separated. women who have many climaxes. are hookers really happy? dirty books for sale. calling all girls. less nicotine. “do you want money or happiness?” she asked. upon hearing his answer she pulled the trigger. flash maroon blue. some of it dribbled out. precursors are stored separately. she mocked lust and fell quietly asleep. theatrical release was imminent and tickets were already available. the witnesses to the atrocities were fabricated and bound in barbed wire.

 

6. mocking suggestions of Christianity. she took off her clothes and lay in the tidal pool, opening and closing her legs at first slowly then quickly. what a ride she screamed. the night touched her lips and kissed them gently. a soft brush, then she started exhibiting symptoms of the plague. it was that stuff that broke out of the lab. the friction intensified as dried herself off. the longer version contains actions of distress. the view of the waterfalls offered slight solace. the hum of the animals offered minimal comfort.

 

7. plush furnishings were accusing, always accusing. they had seen her down by the water. but there’s no evidence she said to herself. I need it I need it. please give it to me. the urge is too much, too fucking much. I’m sweating cold then hot. I have a cold burn on my skin. itching. itching. I’m not here for your amusement. I’m here to taste your pain and your solitude. she filmed the cameraman’s reaction, but he had already bled out. a stain was coagulating and an audience was forming. she threw the photo of her parents, taken by that studio in Brooklyn, into the gowanus canal. fetid liquid swallowed it up.

 

8. the sweet leather of your sighs as you kneel in an aroused state in the dusk. in the dust. the birds fall from the tree to fertilize your womb. a new race to arise, as your dress of red silk burns off your body. a renewal of your skin occurs several times as the sun dies. an echo of burning tongues, a gasp of time for your eyes. waltzes of empty dresses. threads of mannequins’ smiles count slowly slowly as the ebony descends. two mouths joined by a web of saliva. hands clasped. did you sleep well?

 

9. the miracle of the corpses that tell us what they saw when alive, they know about the screaming and moans behind murdered doors. tell her truly, tell her truly. sanctified by her sins, they made her human. empty vacant in the street of pallid cravings. on her knees to pump the oracle for more information. skin silhouettes. the unnamable wants her to hold her tongue. she is unable to say, fearful to admit, what is etched into her skin. as they continue to dance gradually picking up speed, noise is torn. torn. torn. white searing liquid (a pumped gush) quenched the thirst of the menstrual fire.

 

10. a few words, a few days, a progression of kindling fires while cries of people betrayed the attempt at a consultation. during the initial breakdown of mind acid derivatives, she whispered in her lover’s ear. the perils and adventures of exposed families aroused her, which can also result in asphyxia. a cum burned through her, informing her displaced mother, while the others pranced. a garden of delights where prostitutes romped was filmed for later review. both share the same tenement room; after a fortnight they were told that the film cuts abruptly to a shot of her pussy as it rejects her lover’s sperm.

 

11. our guests that were rumored to possess healing powers were murdered in a field in front of television. legs spread, she heard the water, a clipped sound, and the panting sizzles of sodium hydroxide, i.e. caustic soda, commonly known as lye. so high at low tide. the white dog’s heart was nailed to the semaphore signals as they were looking back at the mercenaries masturbating each other for clues. rorschach bones picked clean for the ride. 10 dollars gets you in for the freak show orgy of impotent cinema stars. canine chanting.

 

12. snuff film allegations. she wakes to find that her new lover never answered, then he kissed her, then he left as the owners' corpses lay by the two openings in the graffiti-covered wall. this forced her to consume her conclusions about her pre-defined morality. exchanged rings with the fetishists. no shame at the surviving reels of film angles. intriguing sex with a nasty attractive female. feminine alternate footage and several alternate endings.  at the end the actress sat down hard and quivered as she climaxed, drenching the earth where flowers once sprouted, leaving odors of rebirth. fleshy. fleshy. consummation.

 

13.  she was running away. sacrifices given to please. they walked through the evenings, repeating obscene stories to each other, tonguing labia of insignificance, twisting penises of inconsequence, punished for graphic bullying. she had become a shell without a presence, a shaky hand-held, the initial draft was thrown into the sewer. they could see the ripped and stained pages floating away as they peered through the sewer grate. it seems that manias were designed for the duration of the entire day, she could indulge freely, then lick her fingertips afterwards. a last road to the uninterrupted kisses where the victims had fled. she was running away.

 

 

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Approximate Lovers

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