Tuesday, 24 April 2007
Untitled
Girls strip their clothes and part their thighs with feathered sticks they’re checked for lies by pierced men sweat-covered in lust with heads of swine who drop from trees and laugh and scream as little boys with legs of ants eat fireworks and start to dance as bones from the ground begin to rise helped by starving children crying and laughing and begging to get beaten by women who tug their udders raw and hoarsely squat amongst the timber as mice and rats jump up to bite and tug their genitalia and draw blood from which their daughters sup to make the men groan and scratch themselves new limbs from old because all they see is flesh and breasts yet taller now the bones have grown to catch them all between the shadows so that they dance in a cage or perhaps a stately pleasure dome of rare delight but this one has ensnared the night.
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I dreamed a money spider infestation,
Money spiders around my crotch -
I held on there, gripped by sleep,
All I could do was watch;
I felt them come from either armpit,
Saw them waltz across my eyes,
The woman beside me stared across,
Alone and paralysed;
I awoke cold-sweating, feeling little,
The window leaked a gust -
She slept there same as ever, blank,
I glared with some disgust.
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