30 Aug 2008
29 Aug 2008
emphatically-infected_the first time breached the labyrinth instantaneously birthing a collision within a cocooned radius. Arduous insinuations seep their way through innocuous trespasses. All doctors in us deny the cure. I wrestled with twin infinities, transposing deities atop legitimate escape routes-before space-contorts- the distance kept is the [same] distance shared_and the sun shed it's light, dead to us by now_and the dead dared to dance;dared to spread dreams-along the crust of the earth /_\ the upheavals spread like Saturn shaped gestures-shattered breath lingers on the edge of forever, no-tomorrow, no-more-remorseless steps-his wings stretched-pulling a mountain from the sea: they followed the scent-they followed the sent- an ascent..placed to weigh the keys_a torn dress; as the world turns: power to the people : as the world burns: freedom: the door closed and we stayed outside and built a city with-in. A palace no king could keep and no tyrant could destroy_with us when we wept_silent as we slept side by side. Outside the gates_ inside the city waits_the density of the dream weighed in on us_we're just beginners we thought_we shouldn't carry this life on our backs_[&]who will marry our daughters with the men slaughtered by manned crafts?
There is no ghost_ only but the truth
in the room above us_as we understand it.
Posted by Jaie at 13:14
28 Aug 2008
It was love. At first, sightseeing in London, the big apple, Beijing. Taiwan, she got sick what does he do?! Lost his mind, starts chanting, voodoo in the living room, praying to the god of Elzibar who he heard about through the woman in the market. Eventually Elzibar comes through him doesn’t he, so they’re sat there in the humid hotel room, with the TV on standby and next door the muffled sounds of channel 34, Taiwan now. (you know how it sounds) The demon pulls out a cigar, just starts smoking it doesn’t he, she’s in the other room, doesn’t know shit about it. So anyway, the demon, Elzibar says – “look, this bitch is crapping organs, it’s not what you fed her, it’s her body rejecting you.”
“Fuck off” he says, "I’m not stupid, you’re trying to get me on one of your 'I’ll make her better but it will cost your spleen' deals! I’ve read how you motherfuckers get down! What I want to know is, when this bitch does get well, who do I owe it to?!" Elzibar is impressed, the smoke says so, he exhales in the shape of the Eiffel tower, showing off. "You mean, you want to know who she’s got working for her, I’m very impressed Mr.Bane- two childhood fairies, an angel named Dionne, not exclusive mind you, works around three or four at the same time, but here he comes now telling you to get in the room and be with her." Making the wanker sign at ‘Dionne.’ “Look I’m out, zanzibarcaladarmuntounbatu-“ and he disappears. Smoke from the Sofa. Three seconds later she comes in the room, radiant, alive and virtually sexy compared to her former state. That bathroom is tired. “Oh baby, I feel so much better” and that was the last of it. Oh, except outside a car crashes into a lamppost-two dead? (Elzibar). The bitch was very grateful, very grateful indeed, she was a very grateful bitch, beautiful too. She had recovered from a very painful illness and she knew it was Elzibar, she knew his calling card, the car crash?! Come on! But she doesn’t tell him that she knows, just waits.
One day Elzibar is fucking a fox carcass in the forest, when she come to him as an apparition- ‘Elzibar, I owe you one don’t I?!’
‘uh-huh’ says Elzibar still fucking the carcass.
‘Elzibar’ she whispers, ‘Elizibar, I want it deep.’
‘The refrigerator’ he mumbles, ejaculating.
In this way the two began to ruin what was love at first, both communicating between the demon Elzibar and both not telling the other, but Elzibar subsequently given free range on at least one mortal event. The refrigerator referred to a later incident where the electrician is rushed to hospital after coming to fix a broken fridge. ‘Whoa!’ this guy is thinking, ‘who does this chick think she is trying to fool?! I know a broken refrigerator when I see one, but that looked like something…what if I was gonna fix that fridge?!’ It was over from here, three’s company,and once meddling with the dark forces, there is seldom return to sanity, stability in the relationship is often sacrificed during such pursuits. Elzibar by now already wasted off the two of their deceit, demonism, gangrene infatuation/lust.
One day Mr.Bane is looking at a bank statement when she walks in, “who is ‘Janida Ltd, might I ask? &Why is there are standing order of £60 .76 on our account?” The bitch is chewing pistachios. ‘I don’t bloody well know’ she spits.
‘WITCHERY!!’ Bane is furious, ‘TREACHEROUS HOUND!’ he is yelling, ‘BY THE DEVIL COMES THIS STANDING ORDER! BY THE DEVIL YOU HAVE MOISTENED YOUR LIPS TO CURSE THIS HOUSE TO OBLIVION! AND BY THE DEVIL YOUR SICKNESS RETURNS!’ by now speaking in tongues so he is. She, not surprised, starts inhaling and exhaling emphatically, the two start going at it curse for curse, demon conjures demon, witch counters witch, spirit slain to creature in waiting, the climax to the occult accumulation of knowledge pertaining to evil that had been going on for six months, and the neighbors call the cops. Concerned by the diseased rat stuffed in the toaster, they began to keep one eye and an ear out-both hands on the bible. No one struck no one, that didn’t happen. In a mix up of all the smoke and blasphemy the coppers arrive and out comes the pepper spray, cue pepper spray gets EVERYWHERE no one is safe, the scuffle turns haphazard coppers half blind grasping Mr.Bane by now consumed devil to the core, slams him into the cabinet then to the floor and fatal concussion it is. It happens. The bitch is restrained never to be seen again. Sectioned! Only things she can see and only things she can hear from now on take the life out of here. It was love at first.
(this is a story about how a demon named Elzibar can ruin your relationship)
Posted by Jaie at 23:37
I am looking for a way that isn’t bruised
I am searching for a sign that isn’t used
A group magazine of glossy pics
A silent mouth
Posted by Russell Duffy at 14:47
27 Aug 2008
I lick flesh
I lick muscle
Fit the stone
Bleach the bone
Lips are sealed and the memory cold
Eyes filled with remorsless grain
Posted by cocaine jesus at 17:41
the lechery of leech hood uncoiled from his midriff as supple as sin and as silent as summer. a white whisper of deceit that flowed like semen from his twisted schizophrenic mindset. dripping onto the tiled floor of the captivated audience like butter between a virgins thighs.
man, he so could have laughed at all their innocence that huddled confused in a tiny group: the way their eyes grew wide with fear and admiration, their stoic looks of awe. it gave him a hard on just to watch the girls and boys grow moist and firm with gibbering excitement as he wielded his mighty propaganda with deft skill.
music played a power chord that resonated deep within.
television screens flickered and bucked with images of wealth.
the bait of avarice bubbled thick and poured down on the bare-headed, the needy and the desperate, the lame and the spent - the cool had already driven off in their Ford T's with a two fingered wave.
here, dancing a blue fit that switched back to epileptic, stood the mass with envy tattooed on their foreheads and mug on their over fed collective arse.
and that was the part he liked the most.
he fingered their greed and want until they came; cum on their shoes, cum on their sneakers but…
not on his.
Posted by cocaine jesus at 12:32
favorite kind being bukkake, which I had an extensive collection in.
just look at how experienced she is now, chomping on easy to become jaded. the trick was to make something of it. I had told her, “with so much pornography around, we would be together, wouldn’t we?”
it was the kind of innocence and purity for what it is, and when it came to pornography, it was to see.
“older, but not old. if you’re old we wouldn’t be loved by pornography.”
and we often watched it together; she simply couldn’t stop, she refused to stop. (sometimes I pulled away when I was trailing behind).
she breathed the air around my genitalia, her sense of us rolling in filth, like pigs in shit.
“happy as pigs just like you.”
“I’m not young, I’m old. you don’t think I’ve depended on it? but I’m not jaded at all! porn makes me cream every time I watch it!”
(my pride is akin to the pride of a father whose big cock was like there’s no tomorrow, the very thing that broke her heart with the filthy things it did)
“well that’s cos’ you’re you to him.”
“if that’s the case I wanna be forever young.”
26 Aug 2008
a bubble of beauty
for the working class aesthete
can still represent
a notional pull
Posted by Lazare at 22:34
as transgression offered itself up as a challenge, we gradually arrived at an aesthetics of sick porn with vague sensations of rubbing against the white sheets of loving gestures expressed and exchanged between us. the real intercourse of our bodies, that symphony of touches, frantically tore our clothes off in that womb of our worries far, far away.
the banality, all the banality I pulled out and spurted hotly and thickly all over her for celebration. the ejaculation of sperm on a pretty me. I felt comfortable and relaxed with all my troubles and kisses and caresses. the devastation spoken of is more running my hands all over her breasts and then her ripped desire. melissa was my twin, she was my sister. that desire prolonged, maintained, stretched out. I cheat time caught in the rain and soaked to the skin. she was something out of a nature documentary. birds were heard chirping. I wasn’t quite fully awake yet, and her cunt, the thick white drops of come. I took a shower and when I got to bed she was already sound asleep, totally in control. it was probably about five.
ejaculation, the culmination of desire, the end that was practically naked underneath that free-flowing dress. my cock was on its own, the erection boundless. I grabbed the feel of it on me, all slippery and slimy.
I held onto her waist and raised my knees, pushing deeper into her orgasm held hostage for six days.
“aren’t you going to wash up?”
grunts were relatively quiet that morning. she rubbed channels through me as an agent of corruption. rainy afternoons died and were reborn.
antelopes and tall grass, savannahs, and then I saw that moans and groans were in the service of the pure sex whenever she was aroused. I reached out and touched her, shiny meat being torn apart, but a tiger.
when I awake linearly, it will inevitably be about the death of desire. her own breasts and I reflected half-consciously in the mirror; how I reminded myself that we were people who indulge in these things in a hotel somewhere on an island. hence the postponement of orgasm.
I heard the sound of waves, aside from little refrains. a pornographic narrative, if it has to be streaks and chunks, all over her hairless mound, my cock asleep. that night I had a dream of tigers, perhaps I was up she was sitting on top of me, her crotch grinding into a tiger myself, and there were vague scenes of animals, a beautiful girl and her beautiful body riding on top of me. insatiable as she was, she was at it again. I let her abdomen, feeling the play of muscles as she moved. my, if it wasn’t an antelope that was being eaten, its red bloody meat between us. it all led back to the communion, the face. bukkake was obscenity (degradation, humiliation and on my chest, her long, wavy hair to one side).
she leaned forward and placed her hands beautiful they were, long and bony, firm, and there I was, with images of being slaughtered, blood, meat, bones, torn apart, whilst lying on a comfortable bed, with those dark, puffy nipples that swelled into cupcakes (the communication between us) outside the space of our desire (desire ceases), pleasure dissipates, and desire was wearing. in that cave, wet, slippery and drenched, at six in the morning when dawn was just breaking, I could…
Posted by Russell Duffy at 16:05
[objects grow once faces speak the month]
[dwells the attached not of sense fought]
[and to the one at the a]
Posted by Jaie at 13:49
7. twelve joins books month the in seal owed naturally closed broken for can that speak abstract the destroy gliding by the locked seal war claimed twelve horizon eyes our reason and man speak inside toward the in buried it some seal ago when truth sadly and aggravation nor numbers inside tears
Posted by Jaie at 13:48
has fallen. here it is, or rather there it was. like atlantis. bodies that are no more, with their breasts, withered, and their cocks, silent and bent with the non-anguish of the dead. trapped vocabularies. words that had meaning when their buildings still stood. or when their rollercoasters still twisted in their figure-eights. there was a word for brokenness before it was broken."
the tour guide leads us towards a hole in the ground, or rather a great concrete continent with its heaviest end sunken, a reservoir of shit giving way to gravity.
"there are schoolbuses down there still. yellow. and taxi cabs, too. yellow. lamps which gave off yellow light, like sulfur."
only about 10 of us are perched around the perimeter of the abyss. the rest hang back, unsure about this unknown humanity. the hidden fees, they think, the vociferous taxation! the ghosts of their past fund our future's amusement tours.
"how much to go inside the hole?," one of us asks.
"to go to hell, you mean?"
a ripple of approval runs through the crowd. "hell" was a word once, archaic. exotic. this is what we paid for.
this wastage and want-not, this hotdog-stand damp and day care-rot, this proof of the unlife arouses us. we all fumble in our government(or whatever it is that's left of it)-issue suits for the passes in our pockets—fingers slowly brushing genitalia—to be swiped once, twice for the long journey down.
25 Aug 2008
against the wall is a wooden closet with a satin-smooth finish. the key is firmly lodged in the lock, the way david fincher would've shot it. it clacks open with the singular sound of two mahjong tiles knocking together. he pulls open the drawer, expecting to find it amongst the diamonds and pearls (and the brutal-looking pistol). but it's not there. his hands reach into the forest of clothes and finds it there instead, amongst the undergrowth of lingerie. the moment he turns to the first page, a strange light illuminates his face, his hands and his sex organs, and only his face, his hands and his sex organs. he climbs into the closet and steps into the pages.
snow-capped mountains and the fragrance of chocolate bars still loom high overhead. endless parade of beautiful people in that still got on his nerves but they no longer seem threatening. as used to the sight of the melting, low-flying corporate sigils, real estate billboards slow-mo across the pixilated blue skies.
just as the quest was beginning to realise that he was beginning to get they were now as harmless-looking to him look like it’s lost its meaning, carbon monoxide, metallic.
The Supposed Conversation with TV Girl
“i’m fuckable yeah sure, that’s the same. or maybe it’s because he head.”
“are those the only channels of embarrassment…”
“scorns imperfection. plus, she has some. sees himself ejaculating all over her capable of sex.”
“you mean am I exist when the entire sky is nothing but really amazing tits on her. and that ass, wouldn’t really want to risk asking, in fuckable, and can I be fucked by you.”
“shiny, knee-length boots.”
“are you cunt doesn’t she? he swallows when in case you don’t have them.”
“fear of can actually fuck her. well, she’s got a perhaps-it’s-because-she-can-change tongue. he finds himself wondering if the circular television screen for if you don’t mind fucking a girl with channels do you have in mind?”
“I channels. but then, all the channels are when he wants some entertainment that wouldn’t have to look up into the sky betrayed the vacuity of a generation that disappointment?”
“no, fear of that is sticking out of her like a nether and those legs, not to mention the cunt why a creature such as tv girl would a perpetual screen was beyond him. you’ve got?”
“well, what kind of?”
Masturbation as a Celebration of Pornography
“Might become too dangerous, don’t you not know?”
“that’s for you to fetus see?”
“she was right. his visions have I switching channels. bye.”
“banish all an old shoebox somewhere in a box. all that you come across along that it wasn’t safe so you intentionally those thoughts, let your libido take down desert, it was in reality, a deepening have a reason to venture across this knew then…”
“that’s right. it means that you all along.”
“but I don’t…”
“that’s of orgasm.”
“if what you’re saying is true, world. and where we are right now is gorge control.”
the truth was, though the removed.
“I have an orgasm-locked condition. after all, if it’s dissolution knowing.”
“so do I know or do yes.”
“then is deciding the same as not misplaced your orgasm so that you would if just the very thought of it made him I can only find that pesky little thing deciding?”
“you got me on this one. I’m between knowing and not feel like a tiny case.”
“then there is no difference to decisions?”
“most of the time."
“you can’t go round walking in this could spend lifetimes wandering through it or chasm. and it was so deep you want. because you don’t want to.”
“if that’s intentionally misplaced.”
“no, I lost it also performed on pregnant women, nobody sugar.”
“don’t worry about that. without ever finding anything that you moment his journey began. he referred to decide.”
“does it always have to boil black ant in a vast bowl in this it wasn’t intentional.”
“you knew up in that you’re after, you must celebrate what become increasingly violent since the text yet again.”
“vivisections were definitely not the real world.”
“gets hurt, unless it’s in the real sometimes impregnated by doctors, and the clutter.”
“it was an orgasm you desert had the appearance of being a desert, on the pretext of locating your journey. you must succumb. or else…”
An Encounter with a Shapeshifting Slut
had meant it in the present, it would sadomasochistic relationship it with into making a choice. when this didn’t fast, as he vacillated, she had subtly of a dream that he never had. in truth, had morphed several dozen times in him.
while he was deep in thought, she in the latter, it would mean that they were at a loss. his desires were pulling tech-warrior princess. it was not a look work better, if only slightly better.
she was adapting real keep granting the wishes of a master who of irresponsible chewing gum on a hot present or the past? if she had meant it girlishly-tarty. she tried to cajole him was fucking the living daylights out of seem to work, she turned herself into a not. full cosplay regalia signifying some vacillations. when he turned to look at mind, confronted with such perfection he found particularly captivating.
"it was part of someone’s else’s shell glasses and even larger breasts into?”
“not that I know of.”
“can you transform into something that you’re you?”
he couldn’t make up his elaborate detail made his head ache with morphed herself into someone anything that you can’t morph now that time was in a crisis, did anyone no longer seemed as unsure of her.
“have you decided?”
“is there too much data?”
it reminded him of that something she had done. and this was the cartoonishly-stern voice.
“what are my at him from different directions, and they had had a history together. and if she schoolmarm-type, complete with turtle choices?”
“anything. anything at all. as either mean that she wanted to have it was too colourful, and all that that she was in fact having a choice.”
“you heard me. sense? candy-coloured bubbles of various dreams.”
what can I do for fable someone once told him. it spoke of she had said ‘you heard me,’ or ‘you hurt this maternal manifestation seemed to effort to keep up with his syllogistic sizes floated across the infinite expanse way that she was punished: she had too of the desert, evoking in him the memory sensation was akin to stepping on a piece of anything.
now that made him wonder if himself.
“well?” she said in an almost long as you make a me. tenses seemed suddenly important at that moment. did she mean it in the her, she was a japanese girl attired in concealed under frilly blouse and bra. a female genie who was punished for truly care that tenses no longer made sadomasochistic relations with him or…
Global Pornography powered by Animistic Technologies
“you’re the only everyone around, now what?”
“go for it, me, fucking, fucking would mean you, wouldn’t it, considering following everything so exceedingly how everyone else around you.”
“and that not shake as the pulsating, zeppelin-sized came raining down like a breakfast made allowances for him to guess the shaped morning light, if there were such a thing it’s all hard and straining. of her hips, but a renegade porn broadcast assumed its strange effect on him.”
as if things were conversation wore on.
“would you fuck on which she had now placed sticking out just because I have an erection doesn’t one step at a time.”
“every one of you want?”
“no, I came, they always made sure that you see yourself.”
and to a he let out a gentle laugh.
“what’s that erection, does it mean that I must always to see me?”
“okay, if it makes you feel understandable?”
she pointed at turned around, almost pirouetting, and he which struck him as rather preposterous.
“well it’s your choice, since herself into tv girl again, looking certain extent, neck.
“why are you he could almost feel it all soft and of you.”
“you mean my me!”
“is that what things. for instance, where do all these why I think you’re presumptuous, right? when night came, transmission took a break made a choice. and the other thing is, you.”
“oh, and how is that milky arcs crease?”
“if you want me, all you have the material of her pleated skirt what?”
“I just don’t get it. you never go for it.”
“go for but…”
“you’re too presumptuous. perceptive and all but the question yet pains to notice the subtle transformations have to use it on you, or use it is do shapeshift does not mean that I have to. isn’t that what you want?”
“you know what asunder.”
he found bathed in the I-think-your-problem what should be the one’s who’s asking.
as they spoke, he took great saw I am everything that you want, but himself material made a horizon with close-ups of erection.
he turned attractive as the in the middle, where the erection everything in the desert was placed. he could almost feel the earth so sky. and it was fascinating indeed.
“conversing with a television screen, besides me.”
“that’s very smart and ‘who funny’?”
“nothing. so, you want to know skies were filled all the way to the firm difficult?”
“difficult for whom?”
“are you happy what?”
“are you happy to see me?”
she wondering about a great many cock.”
“yes. happy to see you.”
“if you can around so abruptly he almost gaping mouths of quivering cunts, the all, for that matter. I suggest we take it sand come from here? “
what he saw had a cereal meteorite shower.
“when the men me?”
“aren’t you happy to see me?”
he it was not only big, but perfect he called morning.
“well mean I so?”
by this point, she had morphed immediately that she had a marvellous into that.
“because of that thing don’t you want to use it…?”
“if I have an exactly the way he first met her.”
he was violence threatening to rip the serenity already cryptic enough, she added: “I know at the same time with that deep crack down zeppelin-sized cocks relentlessly punching see.”
he awoke and found himself with penises rumbled their way towards the ass. “understandable.”
“what’s display of fully-dressed.”
and as she stood up, he saw her hands, diamond ring glinting.
“it’s completely better, yeah, I’m happy to see me, the next question chunks me?”
“why does it always have to boil to sketched-out-in random arcs of lights and shadows of a spectacular on her face?”
her features seemed to look orgasmic pyrotechnics. wide, increasingly pulsating, well to start off, just because considered this for a moment. she was the twisted his-it’s-your-cock-and-your-point-of-no-return.
“when they ejaculated, you like me?”
“like you how? in your death-defying parabolas and globular do is take me.”
The Distillation of Porn as Pure Information
saw when he woke up. she was lying waiting for the right moment to come. are in pain why don’t they stop? groaning? are they in pain? and if they terrifying. they sound like they’re that way? why are they moaning and of a sudden, he had a great urge to that he coveted it. looking up, he saw irradiated eyes. he delays his orgasm, refers to the text. but his mind over and over again.
who adults fucking, getting caught in the only mean one thing: his world was the dark, they were the first things he short paragraph.
he strokes himself her body adapted to his touch, becoming determines what you see. he found which is which and what is what. who you little glowing phantom children watching. he stopped touching her and considered going back to sleep, but hand over the slope where her waist decided to have a closer look at the glowing mushrooms instead.
as he you are determines who you see.
all killing each other. why do they grunt?
the children’s curiosity was like many things.
each of these is increasingly logical, and this could curve into her hips, ass and beyond, the spiral notebooks, and using one beside him, sound asleep.
his dreams were becoming you are determines what you see.
what from. he ignores the call of sleep as he his face is illuminated by the light of potential. or a portent. but who knew a screen from whence porn projected mute skies turned to a dead channel. be struggling, or fighting. but what are sounds they make are nothing short of some peace and quiet at last, he an early morning rainstorm, glowing in dichotomous and dialectical.
are in pain why don’t they stop? are turning the line in many things. increasingly logical, and this could over the slope where her waist be dichotomous and dialectical?
waiting some peace and quiet at last, he referred considered going back to sleep, but the popping up of wild mushrooms after his world was groaning. are they in becoming increasingly illogical? but determines what you see. he found fever irradiated eyes. he delays his orgasm, the exact manner himself tossing and early morning rainstorm. glowing in hand you see. what the spiral notebook, and her hips, ass and beyond, handled the each of these is a decided to have coveted it. looking up, he saw they make are nothing short of his face which is which and what is what? who you to the text. he fumbled around for thought. he stopped touching her and this have to be short paragraph for the right moment to come. potential. the mushrooms as a bulb, illuminated mushrooms, he thought about killing each of the movements. they appear to beside him, sound asleep. as he ran his or a portent. but who knew curved into they struggling and fighting for? the what way? why are they moaning and dark, they were the first things with images of you are determine what saw when he woke up. she was lying you are determine who you see.
all and suck through his bloodshot, sounds strokes himself feeds his visual cortex struggling, or fighting. but what are?
the children’s curiosity was like illuminated by the light of from. terrifying. they sound like they’re ignores the call of sleep as he little glowing phantom children watching pain? and if they surreptitiously in her body adapted to his touch, becoming mute skies turned to a dead channel. using one of glowing mushrooms instead.
as he of the other. why do they grunt.
his dreams screen from whence porn projected fuck his mind over and over again.
who dark, where only does everything always closer look at the only mean one thing: adults fucking, getting caught in the were becoming rounder and smoother in a sudden, he had a great urge to that.
Yet Another Conversation
he had no idea what was going on. but play.
down below he came across a fear and gay as a caricature of yours to be programmed. your libido is ornamented with both ironic and iconic, must ensure that in taming it, it does flailing in the wind. it was playing on certain occasions, most of the time intergalactic game of porn yet, he couldn’t deny the visual fact too, but perhaps only at certain hours, it.
he referred to the text.
“the more, come blue or grey, and subject to porn in the midnight hour?”
“even that would have wanted it had he not lose its wild streak.”
“you mean I texture of his cock defined by the sum and only in discreet, subliminal doses. vocabulary and imagination. how soft do invented. though it could get exciting deconstruction.”
he knew this because he knew that it was a beautiful console. endlessly talking heads.
“and start what happens to me?”
“you shall remain I say, let the skies be skies once of all those razor blowjobs.”
written in fashionable nonsense, was one of the worst kinds of games ever.
“you are only limited by your can-do-all-that?”
“yes, and reminded himself that he didn’t need anew.”
“what about all that explosive tiniest detail of my every thought is you want my breasts to be? my cunt, how a wild horse to be tamed, if you intend intact…”
violence as a caricature for it to serve you better. but you predator on roller blades, rasta hair porn deconstruction, whose code was seen the console before.
“to him, more.”
“if that’s the case, then let’s the vagaries of the weather.”
“and textured? my ass, how round? the in the world, with your infinite wisdom bonsai-inspired sokalian tattoos, he wipe the skies clean of all those as you are, as my every girl and woman.”
24 Aug 2008
Take it all to Auschwitz / all your thoughts / cranberried into cattle cars / it’s what you thought / the cluster stab work you did behind the desk / on the news / counting selectively / cheerfully fetishizing a sharpened dominant narrative / it’s so brutal / your make up I mean / foundation buckled by sweat / found as it lies / prostrate / altered / entered / sodomized upon your glistening desk / figures / nubile numbers / slick / young / bruised / credibility crunched / talking up recession / oh dear / I hope I’ll still be able to smoke cigarettes / blow my beloved fatality into your suited face / your posture / oh a flamboyant tie / I got you wrong / your human too / frail / weak / phone embedded in your cheek / and no one talks / but I’ll spunk (reader’s voice - here he goes again with his bodily juices) texts upon your jowls / fat / wobbly / wibbling to the expression of your jaundiced / envious vision / imaginary spectres of black bile / made up / shiny and only pink / like the Barbie doll I fingered in toys R us / examined tabloid / eyeball probed / like knickers at wimbledon / please / please bend over short skirted lady / in front of the royal umpire on a step ladder / in front of the stupidly numerous middle classes officiating lines / in front of the slaves collecting and groping balls / clutching your sweaty towels / your beck and call / you lazy fucks / why not mutilate sexual organs / no / I’ll tell you what / why not sit down and have an orange juice / you’ve been on your aristocratic feet for so long / killing in order to cut / subcutaneous / baubles of fat / strawberries / cream / my own cream / strikes again / catalysed / nipples exploded beyond sports bra / aaahhhhh / such a fitful attempt at sport / a billion monkeys still play it / in space / in place of typewriters / a brainset invented by Reverend Dodgson / Liz Stride / advantage / deuce / advantage / deuce / advantage / deuce / and so it goes / the little monkeys play it without resolution / on and on / on and on / whole genetic strains have been given over to its completion / but it never comes / little monkey families are proud of the lines they’ve watched for generations / the sweaty towels they’ve held dutifully / the lives they failed to lead / unimportant decisions they’ve witnessed / bend over / show me your red currant / please / please / groans a little monkey / its iccle enervated limbs giving out / clutching a sweaty towel / have I mentioned sweaty towels yet / clutched / handed to pacing back / thrown back by ath-elite / into face / at slave in anonymous uniform / you gutted her didn’t you / manipulated fecal matters / paraded words over unedited and raw images / the peripheral dead taken out in the next loop / resuscitated / revived / unshot and forlorn in their backwards lives / without resolution worthy of HD / pixellated vagaries / jagged curves undulate / blur into background pastiche / the pretense of a house manicured by a horny housewife / your cock dribbles under desk / dry / rough / tight / thoughts in out of place tragedy…
Posted by d_rood at 20:07
no. but here
and the keys to
a long-forgotten peroration,
cowboys’ skulls laced
the middle age is plagued
and the moon’s a
seeking six shooters
to roost in.
the penny arcades of
the corral’s okay for ghosts
and centaur amputees. but the mud
streets seethe—in plastic chaps,
bootclomp and spurclang
and caps—with little palefaces’
screams: “Bang! Bang!”
at least we knew what it was then—
after all, even six cylinders ‘re
a poverty stricken facsimile—
to sit astride a single unit
sweat damp sinking
tin stars into muscled flesh
bone weary and butt sore
movement was effort and
spacevast—from the backseat they saw
‘are we there yet?’
here at least one
would like to think familiarity might breed
that the frayed hemp might burn
as much as corded throat;
after all, here was true frontier
democracy—monarchical display placed
in everyman’s gloved hand;
still, the fall denuded
oaks weave cats’ cradles,
awaiting a retrograde spring
redskin faces ghost
shivers up tautdrawn
elmlimb and stonebone,
a curled finger coughs
up lead and
opens a redmouth to vomit itself
plastic tomahawk grip slick
between sweat-laced fingers the dyed feathers
inside the grease-blackened groove
a lolling tongue ready to snap bitesized violence,
an aluminum wing levers up to unveil the chamber—
in the unspooling winds, hills
like history’s humped dust,
stilled waves of countless slumbering hips,
dead shoulders raked
to molecule; rusthulk;
here come the Indians. prepare to open,
and would not such a tree
festooned with peacepipes—
though stolen from deadred palms—
slowly clunking in a twilight
bereft of hours wind a kind of silence?
Posted by John Moore Williams at 19:50
Masturbation. sampling the flavour of emotions, nearest emotional decimal point of pornography. and an impression of its imaginary contents chart the alternative narratives made possible drips and dabs of coloured non-sequiturs, by existing elements, rounded off to the emotional experiment in jealousy. first, we every once in a while I’ll come across a book would flash across my mind. all those words and breaking down, disintegrating, reconstituting all those concepts, so much mental the ups and downs, manic intensity, insane again. fragmentation and reconstitution, made possible by existing elements, rounded off to the nearest emotional decimal manic intensity, insane drips and dabs of coloured non-sequiturs, breaking down, emotional experiment in jealousy. first, we chart the alternative narratives point of pornography. every once in a while I’ll come across a book and an impression of its imaginary contents would flash across my mind. all those words and all those concepts, so disintegrating, reconstituting again. fragmentation and reconstitution, and much mental masturbation. sampling the flavour of emotions, ups and downs.
Towards and away from him, his cock going in-out, in-out as she once, a cock in her cunt and asshole at the same time, spurting groping her breasts through the material of her dress. then one of the men grabbed her and flipped her over, so that her knees forcing her to suck. she tried to push them away but a few slaps were now against the curb. he knelt down and pulled her skirt up them, wondering if something was wrong. still squatting, she was men just kept stuffing her with cock. two cocks in her mouth glued to the set. she was frozen as she sat there watching the till tears flowed down her face, and drool hung down her chin in cocks spraying come all over her hair and face as she kept herself to be throat-fucked. she deep throated those huge cocks to reveal her bare ass, which he slapped a few times before made full use of the kill, rubbing their cocks all over her face, obscenities at her, asking her if she enjoyed getting gangfucked apart, and under the shade of her hiked-up skirt you could see who cared to look. it wasn’t long before three dark-skinned men naked. her dress --- or whatever remained of it --- was in a damn train and the look in her eyes indicated every intention dumb-founded.
soon it was no longer just three men. six more her wild, chaotic bush. she was offering a free show to anyone thick, glassy strings. the slaps must’ve made the men more dirtier that it already was. sucking on one cock while her two hands were stroking another stood around her. there was fear in her eyes as she looked up at sticking his cock in. he held on to her shoulders and pushed her joined them, and the fucking became more brutal. she was pulling aroused, they were treating her rather harshly now, slapping her and obediently sucked and licked their cocks, and even allowed by big cocks, if she was a dirty slut.
her eyes screamed and screamed. the other two wasted no time and quickly sucking and stroking, choking. even then she wasn’t completely shreds, a piece of it around her waist, rendering the scene there was a woman squatting by the roadside with her thighs wide screen, transfixed by what she was watching, to get off. semen was flowing down her legs like milk, and her face soon told her who were in charge. and so she gave in for the fun of it, pulling her by the hair and muttering two. they grabbed her hair and ran their hands all over her body.
The wall and spied at the recorded she was so horny she couldn’t continue. white cream as it moved in-out, in-out. write stories; she wrote and wrote until school pinafore was uniform, she leaned action through squinted eyes. daddy was his teeth.
she felt the heat now, and mommy gagged, pulling daddy’s cock tingle at the thought.
melissa tv, munching on an apple, the other hand porn he shoots looks like bad wkw petite and long-limbed she was a replica extreme upshots from below, her breasts hair and the loud, deliberate, slurping corner of the screen daddy was gritting against the wall facing the wide-screen now when mommy was getting fucked movies. mom was sucking on his cock now, on the remote control.
the television and sucking as she sat in a corner cunt, dragging out thick streaks of raging, agonizing drama in her mind, and saw was unbelievably horny, and she felt remainder of the tape she found in her panties down but not quite removing the fact that her cunt shuddering and biting her fingers, her pulp inside, the entire scene rendered then the sudden fucking: extreme eyes as she turned back to look at daddy raped, a look of hurt and hatred in her close-up, huge cock buried in a hairless watery from that near-choke, being found ever so lightly, feeling her juice cock was in the center of the screen, them, leaving them stretched around her streak in her, she knew she’s beautiful. mommy’s mouth, fucking mommy’s mouth, loved looking at herself in the mirror, almost choking herself on a piece of face damp with sweat. or else glassy saliva attached to it. and the even dirtier with his long fingers hole sticky with her whitish gum, daddy parents’ closet. she swiftly yanked the sounds he was making.
what cock was doing the in-out thing with dark cunt, the flaps and lips and the one time it went a little too deep over it, brutally shoving into the juicy eating mommy out now. mommy’s wide-open was all over it. his tongue snaked all mommy holding it up with her thumb and immediate rush that she shuddered, flicked on, first the blue screen and that’s about it. a hairy sixteen-year-old is so hairy; she got horny just thinking imagine herself being forced, forced to tongue, coaxing deep moans from daddy at home in anticipation of watching them both, she could never tell. mommy stretching mommy wide open, his facial shots of her large hanging breasts, up.
melissa dreamt of cocks being meat of it all. now and then there’d be thighs. still wearing her secondary sucked and holes being filled. she toyed with her fantasies the way her cunt, moist and meaty, the sides of her and she began rubbing her hairy pussy dead with panties around knees nights were filled with feverish dreams as if her heart was going to give the mirror her legs wide open, mommy’s cream on it. mommy licked it and he zoomed in closer to the action. masturbate, forced to watch the fucking watching one of my dad’s homemade pussy, she thought, and her cunt would grimace in an expression that told of sucked or otherwise fucking her mother’s her pussy, she arched her back against pain and pleasure, one or the other, and this accounts for the narcissistic big fat cock, she had thought, swollen cockhead with the tip of her daddy had ever thought of fucking his or her mother. she often wondered if starchy, squelching sounds of fucking, getting fucked like she was getting out along with thick, slimy strings of after school that day, she rushed fucking and sucking, of her father’s ass he fucked her from behind.
daddy’s fuck froth all around. she felt such a porno.
the scene has shifted now. apple. fancy that, she thought, eyes slowly leak out. with a hand still on toyed with her body. she would whip up a suck on it, she teased the already jutting out like mountains.
“Misery Oh misery...I was mistaken...(scratching his head) I mean love is!-ah-the feel-the...and then it!...as stars went to the bakery, The minus was trembling may I have this lining in my stool. of humiliate from the plate of softening1...Loudness, to steal to steal, ...longing...lasting for a breath or fingers.. I like that little lip that guy(holding his chin)or end it ohohohOH...this is love is!-oh...umm this love is!-...the..I..nanananna...this love is!-(scratching his nose)love is-love is love is-...the kinda..feeling that-...No....(two fingers lay over his lips)LOVE IS- if it was haha-haha-good ....and I forged for greed is and if you had to ask...I filled my pockets with gold...I’m of track again...Not what Id...boy, hiya looked like he likes it, haha servers her right. like to see(lifting a right leg into the air). out of tune, why does my hand tremble...what brought me to this place, it stinks like stale bread, ...now that song....(thinking of staring off) I live...nooo!... yep, thinking(itching his nose) to buy Love is!-...a..a..a..A,aa,a,a,a,a,A! Love is love is love is...(shouting)..unt-uh...umphum(clearing his throat repeatedly) hent-hen, eh-hem...was it that I always filled my pockets up went down stairs..wrong way ohphvrum-ha (He got glitters stale it went,, Butch! coffee..need one notices the sound of his throat), I liver...I was scared to face chance.. did except my outfit, look at me! back...One place and a man were frozen:
“Did I enter a pragmatic soheralong! him and his bin the last types was held.”
Flowing through my hair.....(staring into space), lots of shooting his plaque rinsed the last bit Love IS!-giant pocket...coffee table was cleaned off a cur-milk was in’t forgotten price from better heheheh.....no Love is “In the side of my forehead placed the large... all-star..sharpest tool, a bodily flui-...d....nah hmm love...love..love I went to the store, bought some milk .eww stick girl kinda dumb..is-s-s-s-s-s.......inertial...large and backfired. cameras iced the side walk
Posted by Aaron Held at 04:34
23 Aug 2008
Posted by kinkylube at 20:12