Venus in polyester / slender white fingers tipped with flaked nail polish the colour of violent bruises / tattered roadside porn / scuffed and folded / disintegrating / the corpse of a hare hollowed / eyeless / gazing bleakly black orifice… an explosion of curves barely covered by a t-shirt / I sit in the mcdonalds and eat their meat candy / dip crisp spikes into a paper ketchup bucket / meeting eyes / opaque perfected make-up / magazine gloss / annihilated faces / unshaved / unwaxed / under the table scratching for a sheathed straw… my jeans chromosomes are all wrong / flapping like lateral flares / but the other pair hangs just right / ah that extra inch makes it just right / white patterned stockings and a bag of hearts / heading for pocklington… chunks of bunker concrete / reinforced / rust spikes out / gouges scenery… the urinal in poxlington contains a gorgeous decay / gunk and growth / paint hangs in spiked cobwebbed slabs from the ceiling / the steel sluice burnished with piss lichen / no need to wash your hands and to think the grammar school just a couple hundred yards away…
20 mayfair please / he pushes a gem studded rectangle into his earlobe / after school the screams on the bus / I hope I won’t be molested by nubile fingers / torn apart / eaten / shat out / dwelled upon like a painful conversation / a constellation of plump buttocks gathers in sportswear / hair pulled back / silver rings loll from ears / but easily detached in order to garrotte a member or two of the communist french resistance / it is yorkshire / it is the fatal stench of… of the bbc trying to make britain big in small rooms / such a copious landscape and limited...
Hand imprinted by rubber / a happy aspect and linear impressions in the palm / immaculate fascistic violins spawn scission / the soporific pains / the emasculated fountains that spout an ignorance of fast food and yet can’t cook / more comfortable with their tractors harvesting food / the 11:27 from where the dog shits behind it’s notice board prison / from where the ammunition passes through / strapped down / in metal cases and clearly labelled / I fill an underused bin with boredom bottles / smoke down my skin in ages / in pregnancy harm and inhibited gasps / blood boards the number 10 to rattle along under big skies / underneath thin clouds burnished by the half moon / a screaming white stiletto piercing a waterbed / beautiful gaps in forward teeth / sheaths of thin rubber ruben thighs / tight / circulatory restrictive hoops / ribs / pendulums marking time in erectile tissue / blood strewn hope / hungry veins / happy veins beneath a tan synthetic / a calf muscle bulges and nervous laughter erupts across a volkswagon driven by people in stripy pyjamas…
Wholesome / smell of wood smoke / meat and children’s voices / the rush of exercise / boots made for occasions / close cropped hair / giggles / runs a finger along a blade / meaning it’s sharp / it can cut / yawning throats swallow down indigestible conversation / buses / weather / acknowledgement / pristine urinals / mirrors to remind you of your animal act / unless of course you like yourself / dogs that cock a snoop and then a leg at a lamppost / trickles across pavement / runs the seams of gasworks’ tarmac / water board tarmac and council tinkering / makes a puddle next to squashed chewing plastic / moulded by molars / / in the village sheep and drunks bleating / / a gripe / an empty paradise lays off its fleeced and worn uniforms / its replica ss daggers collect dust in their plaggy grips / its repetition of pleasure caresses a piercing / a tattoo / make believe eyeliner / impossibilities account for most suicides / the country road speckled with discarded fuel canisters / benson / hedges / mayfair superkings and the lubricating cans / used images and diapers / looking for spots / to hit that spot / pop it / puss oil tween forefinger and thumb…
27 Apr 2008
colour of bruises
Posted by d_rood at 20:05
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3 comments:
What I really like about your writing is the short stacato bursts of words - stabs of words that are both stark and yet brimming with illusion. images fall like concrete slabs. Statements almost that contain so little information and yet are so full of imagery.
i was planning on posting something today
but y'all are definitely hard to follow...
if im gonna come, i see im gonna have to come HARD
(this place is MENTAL lately...cant get enough as a fan-boy)
ditto on cj's comment.
i like your writing style. very personal.
minimalist expressions and yet maximalist. great!
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