The liberated puss / pressed into lint oozing through gauze / some years later your septic vampiric kiss releases a hot gush from my torn jugular / in your grip my feet kick and dance / smearing sticky red on the white tiled floor / my new found somnolent gaze fixes on an advert playing on a security monitor / a family in a silver car winds up a narrow mountain road / winds up my mind / high on adrenaline passed to me via your saliva / I blink and the family in the car is screaming / descending into their seats as though melting / spumes of blood froth upwards across the tinted windows / warm upon my face and into my eyes as you scalp me / rolling back the skin across my bonce / rolling back the prices a smiling mother pats her buttock / black chipped nails tap and scrawl on my exposed skull / I feel you point at my forehead and then with a specially sharpened fingernail cut down the centre of my surface / my reddened face / inane / still staring at the images in the security screen / you peel off my face in strips / cut generously with a blade around the eyes so that it looks like I’m wearing glasses / comical / sat on drying agitated muscle / I hear you laugh / a monkey and a jingle for chocolate milk / glazed / eyeballs rigid unable to cross the abyss to yours / you lower me to the ground / gently / clutching my tattered flapping throat / I can no longer see the screen / just its reflection in a municipal door / mottled / crosshatched with embedded wire / a montaged smear of films I ought to watch / you remove my clothing / damp / soaked in immobilized fear / you remove it in practised routine / Belmondo wraps sticks of dynamite round his head / in the reflection / in reverse / you dig fingers into my flesh / my perineum / and with an upward motion tear off my cock / balls ‘n’ all / I’m aware of a hunched shadow eating from its hands / of images of a boy firing his first shots into reversing footage of the Nazi regime / its atrocities / your stylised slurpings / my maimed face remanents twitch / tauten / eyes stuck to the reflected scenes / you toss aside my half eaten morsel / Joe Pesci smashes a head with a car door / you belch / I feel a splutter of your hunger wetten my chest / you stab in controlled frenzy / horizontal / serrating my abdomen so that I might later be torn in half / you wait panting / Robbin Williams detonates a bomb in a noisy crowd / my intestines erupt / carefully / intact / excavated by your burrowing hands / you crack open my chest / parting waves of bone to dribble soporific spittle upon my heart / asleep in viscera / in a stream of idols / Jeanne Moreau / the girl on the motorcycle / Myra Hindley / you push air / force it from my mouth by squeezing my naked lungs as if in the grip of a passion with another woman / my eyes stiff / fixed / staring into the fantasy spattered with my own blood / obscured with my own blood / and then you must leave me / I feel the breath of the door swing open / then shut / I think I vomit / a film starts in the fragmentary reflection / oh shit / it’s Night of the Demon…
29 Sept 2008
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