Notes Toward a Banned Book
Lenore likes the slightly crumpled beak of an origami bird. Justine enjoys removing the silk from an ear of corn. We must carry on as if life is polite. We must hide the contrary evidence in a shoebox under the bed.
Sometimes I think about attending an ornate church where the priest puts on a show after reading a story by Poe or De Sade. Sometimes I wander this city for years at a time without a single shock.
Gloria likes her ankles bound. Fran likes to watch men drink her urine. We must carry on as if love is sexless, and sex has no theatrical core. Sometimes the bindings are Velcro. Sometimes the men drink Gatorade.
Horror Sleaze Trash 