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* * *
I woke up,
sweating, cursing, crying, kicking
my head
against the brick wall
that tastes like nicotine,

i dreamed of her
again and again and again.
fuck this,
said the merchant, and tore off some flesh
i do not need this any more.

a raging erection
kills my brain cells
i get into the shower, hot water burns my body.
fuck this,
said Hamlet, when daddy came and visited him
i do not need this anymore.

i was dreaming of a better life
empty life
i was writing, sitting in an empty
better room.
she came, naked
her flesh was pink
like a manifesto of pain
her flesh was from hell.
fuck this,
said Charles Bovary and started reading the letters
i do not need this anymore.

She sat on the table,
She spread her legs,
She kissed my hand,

once more, i can feel (taste, touch, smell, think)
her pink inside
i would throw up,
but i was ecstatic.
fuck this,
said Charles Dexter Ward as he stumbled into insanity
i do not need this anymore.

industrial cunnilingus destroys
the smile of my face
scars on my back
remind me of my fall
fuck this.

"Then too, the natives are mortally afraid of the numerous whippoorwills which grow vocal on warm nights. It is vowed that the birds are psychopomps lying in wait for the souls of the dying, and that they time their eerie cries in unison with the sufferer's struggling breath. If they can catch the fleeing soul when it leaves the body, they instantly flutter away chittering in daemoniac laughter; but if they fail, they subside gradually into a disappointed silence."
H.P.Lovecraft."The Dunwich Horror"
Soul Mood:
Sensory overload:
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