Well, here's a few things I've written the past week as I've trundled the city and got into various situations...
Sin is the daughter of Satan-
Death be her brother
and also the Son.
The two, with their father,
unite in a bond
of incestuous union
that furthers his spawn.
Watch now,
as they breathe
and so, breed
fastidiously...
They grow manifold in their numbers
hand in hand and
eye in foot.
An unspeakable horror
ad infinitum.
Won't you communicate with them?
Won't you bolster their ranks?
Ah, but too late!
You see, you will,
or you already have...
Do not doubt the power of the devil,
for you already tread
in his wake.
***
Oh my lover,
I want you to lower me
to the abject debasement
of an inert object
and no more!
Think of the copses
of full-fledged flowers
as I lie still,
underneath,
like a corpse.
Kill me!
Sit astride me
as a tyrant,
or a gymnast performing
atop his hobby-horse,
performing your beautiful ballet
as I lick my blood from the submerged blade
which will surely,
sorely, be
the cause of my demise.
My pleasures are heightened
as my death-bed be lowered,
oh, I long
to be an object in your eyes!
***
And it dawns on me then:
I am not one
suited for “life-drawing”.
I have neither the
patience,
nor the barbarism
to objectify the silent human
who sits or stands there
idle
for our prying eyes
and fancy.
We treat them
just as ‘form’
for their inertness,
as though
they were truly
and example of “life”.
But pray tell,
what life does not move,
except for that
which is deceased?
This is no way
to treat life,
in such times,
when the naked body
is truly there
to be loved.
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