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Date Posted: 21:15:35 02/19/02 Tue
Author: Porthos
Subject: Well Dressed

Well Dressed

The words fall from her lips
Like a newly born infant,
White and floundering.
She looks at me,
Eyes like red carnations opening
To the sun. Her scent:
Burning hair. Her body
Feels coarse on my hands
Like a sandy bathing suit.
Lips taste like arsenic.
The sound of her voice
Like a seashore on
A windless day.

Silverback gorillas castrate themselves
In the midday warmth, furry hands
Grasping jagged rocks.

She lights a cigarette and
The smoke caresses her face
Like a lover while penetrating
Her nostrils with the smell
Of her father.

Another gust from her poison lips:
“Just think of Beatrix Potter in her
Fucking South Kensington home
Writing about Peter Rabbit.
It makes me sick, ya know.”
I watch her lips move like how
Barracudas breathe.

I pull her against me.
Her body feels smooth
Like an Italian suit,
A suit that I want to wear
To spite her.
“You are so rad”
Her words come to me
Like a promotion
At a food service job.

I think this is when
I realized to be respected
You have to fuck in at least
One sense of the word.

Her breasts squash against me,
Perfect solid breasts.

Umbabarauma!

She nuzzles her head into my neck
And I can feel her temple pulse:
The pathetic mother of anxiety.
I stare at the pattern of her hair,
The blond ocean lapping up around
My chin, and I am a newly born puppy,
Eyes violently focused on the bleeding
Vagina I just tore out of.
My teeth lengthen and become sharp like
Scalpels. I go to work on her, like that
Stinking frog in high school bio, and leave her
Empty.

Ike, you pathetic center of the universe.

Her eyes are frozen open, pupils dilated
As if she had just visited an optometrist.
Her body limp on the carpet
Amidst a growing sea
Of her own vital fluids.

Her voice echoes in my head
Like the indiscernible noise
One hears for hours after
A concert. She speaks to me:
“I’m looking for you.”
She will find me soon enough.
Staring at her body, her beautiful
Physical presence lying there
Like a sleeping princess,
I come to realize the rankness
Of the human form.

My face now twisted I shout at her:
“You are so full of self pity
You’d donate blood to burn
Victims.”

Me odio.

I unsheathe my sword,
This glowing syringe.
The needle whispers to me,
Tells me secrets,
Horrible and trenchant.

The suit hangs from my body,
A perfect fit.

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