Winston-Salem

My eyes trembled in the light, and surveying the field of weeds before me, I let slip my mental focus. I burned through manufactured glass windows with lust under the heat of afternoon and held my breath in ovarian thirst. The sky was as deep and blue as her eyes are exploded and green. I saw her face painted in cold reptilian frames of broken sunburst-crystalline as her warm sexuality crept slowly with penetrating fingernails along my already collapsed and mildewed veins. She felt raped behind my black eyelids; I know now that love is dead. The fetus will spread her legs in a dull grey melody to imagine shape within the hearts of insect colonies already chewing voraciously at the walls of another vaginal hive; deep, collected pools of seminal regret. Forgotten Robyn in this tenth-grade daydream--in such a bitter nightmare.

Disquisition: Love

It deconstruct and define both to struggles that society a by undermined and created once at all irrationality meaningless and arbitrary an is love. Altruism paradoxical and motives hidden but little symbolize to misapplication of centuries through individual the of mind the within skillfully crafted been has it. Deceit and dishonesty outright of practice conscious, active the within found intrinsically are persuasions effective most and greatest its. Results satisfactory produce will and can love, emotions and thoughts human of manipulation the for used tool necessary a as intelligence apt an by owned if. Disillusionment and regret with over-painted expectations empty with cluttered left otherwise lives into invitation by welcome ourselves we that thief a is love. Truth all found is treachery in for; control-self of sense fraudulent and dignity fickle their of them rob to sway this use to and, oppression its by unaffected if rational left creatures of minds the over sway considerable its master to but, itself love gain to be not should goal plausible and intelligent only the wherein dominance for struggle a is it.

Contrition

You are nothing more than what I feel between your legs. So loveless in my distaste for femininity, I refuse with spiteful eyes those who spread themselves before me. Am I not the first to devour worth wherein you may have kept clean your skin now stained with human filth? To what great lengths I will go to force upon you this knowledge of yourself--am I not your only friend?

Allow me to elaborate upon what little truth--if such a thing exists--you may discern: You are not beautiful, for never have I beheld such a filthy and loathsome creature more worthy of contempt--more earning of disgust; I do not love you; for in consideration of the sewage to which your very soul owes its form and composition, why must I have ever been expected to? In warring factions our genders speak.

And what then of us, and of myself? Why, as you may justifiably inquire, claim fellowship among such base and despicable animals? And so it goes...we are but one, not two; we are the same, never at odds. I see in you that which I myself have always been: vile, corrupted, fallen, malignant--a festering stagnation of all things pure and virtuous; a human being.

Mike Tyson

Nothing left in here for me to feel. Noises wash terrible fluid catastrophe. She smiles down into my bloodstream cathode with urinal teeth; every love about me in hell. Torment leaves me not. Drool collected product of my apathy--can't even swallow. "Get to the point," it urges me on. Everything in upward blisters. Worm shivers in the silken temperature throbbing in the bowels. Anal sex into her distance nightmare appendage. Inside the animal rabid convex. Everything is ruined, dressed in ruination shit.

Nostalgia

Happy birthday, Paul. I've missed you.

Sarah

Her deep blue eyes glared vacantly into mine with that same blank expression still showing on her haunted face. In boundless masculinity I demanded that she put my cock into her mouth. Her eyes rolled upward as she gathered spit...

The moon grew smothered by October clouds, and from her mouth fell the fruit of sodomy; days wasted on blood and sex. She was a breathing egg, deformed and full with cancer. The sperm swam mindlessly throughout the alleys of Canal street, while Christ hung mockingly on a telephone pole under the swollen red sky--and the wind washed over the shit and piss of animals still clinging in lifeless terror to their drugs. I told her I loved her and put my hands to her throat...