Posts Tagged ‘Peter Marra’

Caroline Cunning has Images for your Addiction

 

a scream juice

a shocking psycho go-go dancer

the diabolical delinquents involved in drug addiction

tested the limit of the reward pathway directly

she became involved with a touch of some fingers

smooth stroll down a deserted alley

a kiss in the nighttime a whisper a breath

a perception of the stimulus bombardment

a blast from a .44

she flicked her cigarette butt onto the twitching corpse

first aktion made to last

 

she was a serial seducer packing love and knives

always carrying a sickness in her gut

always a smile always

certain rituals pleased her:

a torn skirt or another memento from fucking

that she threw away to be used in fetish rituals

by government officials in middle America

that place where matrons rub ak47’s between their legs

and men castrate themselves with bullets

juxtaposed between blood and holiness

wandering haphazardly towards self-destruction

have your children killed each other today?

 

she lay back and smoked another cigarette

purple/grey smoke wafting away

slitting bellies open with her fingernails

removing organs and all thoughts of morality

a fertility goddess gone way / way bad

another noted fear in the heat of the vocabulary

 

it was okay for them to say nasty dirty things

some spasms she actively enjoyed

please visit the others

needle balloon

boneless faces

plugged in

then plugged out

demonic routines and such

please visit the others she said

they’re hiding in the basement

that one down the block with the windows gouged out

they can’t say how i feel

blank squares on the walls where pictures used to be

a heart burns inside a cage suspended over glass

she’ll eradicate them all

 

 

 

I, Makeup

a shaft of nylon. mascara was quickly gaining pictures.

the transplanted injury of large eyes the frenzy of

boobs packaged, shipped and sold.

singing women were born of  ash or lampblack

and positioned figures were impaled.

this action of languages that were rubbed

until a rash glowed under an etch-a-sketch ™.

a chemical showing all the failures that slurped her substance ,

an eroticization of low-dose, the will between mouths;

the Love Company agitated surreptitiously

in  a mold of water that prompted protective instincts.

as the hidden kept flickering as a mad tight mouth, gulped, swallowed.

cosmetic scars of Ancient Egypt signs of reproductive tissue

rubbed against injections, tasted sex appeal,

love walking on a heated mixture of Max Factor lash.

the third of three pumping specimens climaxed as bosoms pressed

into glass for each use. then a fibrous cord substance heard

the sounds of the rapid counting of the still-life translations of an ovary.

 

 

 

pain symphony quotidian

 

start of a symphony forgiven

 

there is a place

“i’m sorry.”

 

She gasped at the plan:

(he had died slumped over his desk

after she was suffocated by the nightingales

that were proud of the children’s fears – afterwards they hid in the back alley

fucked by time and fucking for life)

 

“you are only occasional lust. we snuggled in our cells.”

she read me her stories

there is a place behind a wall where static breeds.

reveries.

 

silence and abandonment for

a scalding clinging function

sweat touches sweat

a moan as a result of vessels draining

 

i hated that.

 

i met with a body.

i could taste particles.

these foreign things

embedded inside her

that make her laugh

there’s a place.

 

“tell me another story before i lay down.”

she breathed wet into my left ear

then we went outside into the street

where the electricians had wired up the crowd

and pulled the switches.

 

the drummers

died slowly

and collapsed.

we laughed.

 

there’s a place.

there’s a place.

where the psycho-cats

lick the bricks.

 

berated

she hits her chest 3 times.

 

wail baby

wail

 

a soft monotone

working it

“this stuff’ll kill ya.”

dogging me while gulping benzedrine

 

she walked them down

the stone steps

holding the leashes of 4 dogs

her neck encircled with 4 onyx collars.

 

negation of the wanderers

a kiss for the spectacle

betrayed by the images generated

 

just for them.

 

a walk in silence.

 

the cars make sounds but it’s not important

black hair leopard skin coat

shoes at the end of shapely nyloned legs

a generation of multiple puzzles

jigsaw spilled on concrete.

 

negation of the wanderers

a quick run to the church-

a spanish moss touches in our groins-

a laugh from the spectacle-

a manipulation (it’s proud)-

a skin removed.

 

blood spilled.

a thing is gorged and it’s at rest

 

just a puce moment

just a burn for our flesh

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