hot channels for a nightmare of sin
(medium long shot)
delicately back to the point of a low undertone
deemed guilty by a watchful gaze
drowning burst in a mascara fury
watch and wait.
give up sleep
“kiss me quick”
unscripted slow silent movement:
move the camera.
murmuring. she hears a sound
while improvising. whimpers.
her face is on a magic lantern slide,
she dares to look through slit eyes
at a glass held by her shaky fingers,
she looks through it
trembles deep inside
heard sentences that consigned her to embarrassment
how she had handled her body swaying
“I felt…”
the magic area quivers/salivates
the bright blaze
the relished haze
that’s why she’s always wearing shades.
obsessed with the object in her hands,
it’s a capture of her image that she lost a little while ago as
an insect screamed behind the concrete.
in the distance a blood-lust pleasure,
her dream was to become just as she had imagined,
although their video was never distributed,
voices tighter as the tongues dance back
the panic has grown substantially since watching
coal black mane hair.
she could only vaguely reply quickly:
“you have one written permission.
to lie down / to replay
to speak of a fetish that is cherished
by you.”
“darkness – cold light
fluctuating zippers,
can’t take anymore,” she feels her fingers feel
the sloppy wet nightmare deep inside
i couldn’t see any exits from the process
once it started
it played out into a
whimper sputter
coming to rest
who carried us home and lay us side by side?
our hands were clasped.
eyes frozen staring at cracked plaster ceilings.
a joy ride.
she showed me a capture of her image that she lost a little while ago,
clasping it to her chest – forbidden forever
draining the cup and asking for attack.
Cut through the flesh she exposed her heart beating.
the women she played counteracted her nervousness,
a tight bind of nerves blinding
twisted
spread throughout our
feelings. i couldn’t help her.
she left in a fury,
the screams departed
and i lost her love.
i realized that my mouth was fuzzed as
a gone feeling grew.
(want to rest)
being taken from me.
and the bullwhip moon ridiculed, then left.
only the fiery burn of the white air stayed.
screen-test girls
i’ll give you what’s in my mind
(they talked and talked
she looked away)
the streets contained figures staring
in the foyer women wept and pointed
talking talking
looking looking
at Ennis house / concrete carnivorous bleed
grasp a time in black and white
lies keep growing and can’t be released
to the nighttime clocks song
slight name
slight face
slight sound
an undertone
some undertones
a slight screech
what does it feel
I like what you are thinking
what are you wearing
right now in the nighttime
thump
thump
thump
at Ennis house eternal bleed
marauders take thoughts and exchange them
in the foyer women laughed and exchanged skins
an absolute breath trapped in the threads
hanging from above – gasping marionettes prance
grasping grasping
until slight feelings emerge
samples taken photos developed
discarded down the street
at 4 a.m. funtime funtime kick it
kick it out the blackened windows
puppets that talk to the assistant
the curator of the word coffins
behold a fearful blast of radioactive-contaminated dead.
which resembled the funeral home that always thrilled her
dabbing fire pain with an animal’s confidence
the automobile purred mileage clocking
as the women spoke of coffins that are clear to behold
she appeared to have emerged from
a decorative velvet drape
that burned continuously
at Ennis house fractured skinless
she talks and mouths cyphers
slowly a droplet of blood trickles down her chin
at first they thought it was an injury
but later realized it was afterbirth
at Ennis house / fractured skinless
at Ennis house / concrete carnivorous bleed
at Ennis house / bury radioactive-contaminated dead
BoySlut 