‘You’re fucking nuts! You know that?’ Fucking crazy!” she screamed at me: it was 07:30 and I had to make it into work within the hour: ‘I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but whatever the fuck it is, forgive me’ I said: ‘You should feel ashamed of yourself’. she said: ‘I do’ I replied: ‘You can’t even remember what you did and said last night, can you?’ she shrieked at me: it was true: ‘No’ I said: ‘Well, you’re soon find out’ she said ‘and if you’re looking for your shoes you’ll find them in the freezer where you put them last night!’ she turned and made for the bathroom as I stumbled towards the kitchen.
I’ve memorized every nail hole in these Four rooms. I’ve eaten my various mélanges of pasta, Rice, beans, tuna, salad, And chicken A thousand times. I’ve asked for your help But have not received it. I don’t believe in magic, in God. I like Jesus. He said a lot of good things. He died for jerks like us. I like Buddha. He’s pretty good. But I can’t reconcile the fact That he abandoned his wife and kids. Kiss me once, as I die In chains. Hold my hand As it trembles uncontrollably With the palsy of The past. The bugs skitter along the walls, Along my skin. I am a prisoner of this flesh, This omnipresent erection, This pulsation, exsanguinations of The soul. The machinations of bone, of blood, Of joints. The living are crushed Between my teeth. I expand, I recoil. I sit and stare as music blares. I puke up nightly regrets And sorrows. From the bed To the toilet To the car To the toilet To the bed. If there is a God, He sits on his throne And don’t give a fuck.
Raise your hand if you were miscarried. Aborted? The baby in the backseat wails, “It’s a scam, it’s all a scam!” You’re right, kid. Pop music, like apple sauce, is insufferable and you can’t stick a candle in your asshole and call it a birthday cake. One day, though, you’ll receive the gift of excess. I fuck with deaths small and large, whimper my orgasm about town, had both glitter and blood in my stool. Neither the hangovers or venereal diseases are as bad as they say. Broke jaw, broke ego, just plain broke, it’s the piss test or relinquish duty, cocaine brain! Anyways, never trust moderation or the moderator– you could live to 105 and never cum but if you show at your funeral, they’ll thank you for lifting the mood.
You wanted to play Chess but nah bitch, we gonna play Twister. That’s what I do— I’m a game changer. Since you had me all twisted up in your twisted mind ~ You tried to bore me to death. I had to switch up the board. I had to bring the color and bend over for something that could keep me awake for once. You can’t be lazy if you wanna play with me. Tick-tock, tick-tock, checkmate, blah, blah, blah… Boredom is a pathetic way to die!!! So, I can’t hang around you, honey. Well, spin the dial, it’s your turn. Wait, wait, wait… Can you play Twister without a backbone??? Nope. You gotta go back to your board— back to your black and white world.
I am Mary, mother of the true god of cosmic adventure and queen of the libertines. I give myself to all comers regardless of race, creed and size of penis. I am available to women as well as men, to plants as well as animals. I fuck for nothing but freely accept all tokens of appreciation, negotiable or not. I have no inhibitions, there is no form of sex to which I am not partial. I will even talk to you over a cup of tea.
I am Mary, patron goddess of all prostitutes, the only true saints humankind has ever known. They give what others are unwilling to part with, subject themselves to cruelties others will not endure and abide the scorn of their less liberated sisters. Were all women as free as I, as unattached to their mythical egos, as unburdened by likes and dislikes, as unadorned with vanity and conditioned notions of the body’s needs, then harlotry would cease to exist, never again would desire be exploited.
I am Mary, loving sister of all men, provider of all their needs, destroyer of all their wants. Having seen with my inner mind to the very core of all their frustrations, I have also witnessed the seeds of their aggressiveness, the twisted roots of their hardened ambitions. Sigmund Freud has taught me nothing, I have learned all by opening my cunt, exposing my bosom and allowing the whole world to massage my heart. Were all women like me, no man would need play his ego-inflating games of seduction nor sublimate his desires by seeking to conquer the material world. I deflate egos by hardening cocks. I take the wind out of all masculine sails and recycle its potency as a tantric generator. By making lust sacred, I make men divine: true gods never need prove themselves, they live secure in total self-knowledge.
I am Mary, anarchist princess of spiritual revolution, scarlet perpetrator of crimes against ignorance, debauched ascetic in a cruel world of self-righteous gluttons. I am the unprincipled advocate of sexual Tao, I conquer hate by offering pleasure and quell violence by permitting pain. I am an empty well of immortal flesh within whose depths only love can abide. I am the golden maiden of carnal alchemy, transforming all vice into highest virtue. Because I am God I live without fear. The devil is not my enemy but my self-created lover, I embrace his darkness with arms of pure light, giving human sensations their reward for being. Live as I do and you shall never die.
I am Mary, calling all my sisters out of their houses, all my brothers out of their armies, all my workers out of their factories, all my admirers down from their temples, all my lovers out of their shadows, all my revilers up from their miseries, all my ancestors out of their heresies, all my descendants out of their destinies, all my dreamers out of their fantasies.
He was a drama major took voice lessons studied the art of gesticulation and facial movement (he can say volumes with just an eyebrow.) He combs his hair dresses tastefully doesn’t want anything to distract the audience from his art wants to connect with the largest number of people like a real estate agent or a car salesman. He’s got a nice smile a complexion a 24-year-old girl would kill for, damn does he sleep in a vat of Vaseline? And he stands erect and confident, the microphone is his best friend. He doesn’t read his stuff, this mo-fo has memorized it! He’s practiced he’s trained he’s not messing around. He PROJECTS and scans the audience back and forth to and fro totally natural no one feels left out. What a performer! He gets them hootin’ and hollerin’! The applause, oh lordy deafening 2, 3 minutes long, people are on their feet, creaming themselves, their heads are spinning, they’re speaking in tongues, they’re crawling around on all fours, jumping up, saluting, drooling, reaching out, arms waving, smacking themselves in the face, crossing their chests, shitting their drawers. Sing it brother! Preach it man! He supports arts and teachers, he’s very supportive, he’s passionate. In fact he IS a teacher. He loves his job. He’s like a supercool teacher on a PBS special who treats all the students fairly even the poor and the ugly and the stupid ones. He is severe when needed and compassionate when needed. He’s a good guy, he’ll loan you a dollar or a pen. He corrects his friends’ grammar at barbecues he knows how irritating that is but he still does it. It’s cute, he can laugh at himself, he’s a regular fella. People adore him, he is simply adored. I watch his Youtube videos and am in awe. My mouth drops open and I laugh and nod my head at the perfection of the openings and closings. The middles are good too, it’s all soundly cadenced and crafted, like a symphony. The occasional cuss word, you know, for effect. Polished, sober, sane, what the hell planet is this guy from? How to Win Friends and Influence People is sticking out of his back pocket. Firm ass. He’s a kick at cocktail parties. His wife is pretty but not too pretty and his kids are cute but not too cute. The man is talented, no getting around it. Probably jogs. Perfect teeth, I’ll bet he flosses. Does he have a shed out behind his suburban house lined with newspapers where he cuts up stray dogs wearing nothing but a pair of flip-flops? The sonorous, handsome bastard, we’ll see how big he is when I post my one-star review.
The streets are vacant; only the dead walk this eternal night. Packs of hounds are hunting and educating themselves from horribly written books and scattered coupons that blow through the alleyways.
Corpses are piling up in community parks and the rats have come together, massing and breeding at unbelievable rates, forming unions and delegating sections of the city. The black rain never seems to run dry.
Why has the daylight left us? Is this some sort of divine insurrection?
Long ago, traveling in Mexico after the tourist season, the ocean started to throw up all of its natural and man-made garbage onto the beach, the quantity of shit covered everything like a blanket, and the stench was fucking unbearable. I asked a friend “what in all fuck was happening?” He simply replied, “the ocean is cleaning itself.” Apparently it happened every year around the same time.
I wonder, in these troubled times, if the earth isn’t cleaning itself of us. We’ve had a good run at it, but we upset the balance, and for all intents and purposes we’ve ripped the living shit out of it.
We seem to forget that we’re only guests, and under the ravens’ watch.
Horror Sleaze Trash 