There is a part of us
that isn't quite alive
until hollow-starved lunacy is sated
while showing the bright side
her hidden darkness emerged
when i tricked her into hurting herself
she would say come on trick me, trick me, trick me
and i would tell her
Count Dragool with bloody tube fingers
would take her slow
if she hit her self hard across the mouth
and she would scream to Eden
bash mashley thrash me
i want the men with red tridents
and ding dong tails too
while she watched my eyes
like surveillance drones
as if a great confederation of cocks
marched towards her
certainly not painless
but the pain of an addict
who knows all to well the pleasure of the needle
first the little sting and then the great oooow
of becoming eaten kingo flinks
and potato chips
she is butter on the stove
im the rare drug
a Do Do bird beaking flesh
a cold hard penetration
she a yielding intricacy of complications
a bald Rapunzel
feeling under abused till now
with black crow lips and jumbo bangled earings
like a long jangling math problem that ends
with a big O
O popping blood berries
like pink flower hysterical nipples
shooting bullets from tattooed
hip belted pistols
on a singing red bed
her limbs a yawing stretch
of insanity sane
her body a torn zipper
being yanked up and down
a frenzy of crying blasphemies and raw kisses
dancing the bend over
on knotted kisses
incised a writhing dance cha cha
creel of blood
cha cha cha
Author's Notes/Comments:
the need to feed the dark side
