Thursday, April 21, 2016

Celibate Celebrant's Diary of Worship, Song and Pornographic JPEGS

Dune lover - of this desert I navigate improprieties, a failed quest. That you were born incarnate plum picked, the female narcissus, be forgiven. Let not your origin perverted by Blue Irises give wake to your dying concupiscence

Malaria tint in the sky, dry sinuses - blood drip. With parched throats lungs quake to polluted air. Consequence diagnosable, weed's loom, white paper, no pipe. A breath's pull brings sensation, cancerous, cancellable

Hours programmed, detailed as vice - Magnum pistol hangs by cord. Bottled prescription pills, insular thug empties tank. Walls' white cracks, mildew gathers under sink, an inefficacious livelihood. Virtual sex, starvation

Numbing conscience - subjected to torture, he feels leather belt on skin, watches peripheral knife. Looped messages emit from answering machine. He prepares for lone shark's indeterminate arrival. Gangsta dialogue, muffled words presuppose agoraphobia

Melophobia - after months celebrating street samba, rock and roll dissonance, the chanteur, an alcoholic experiences marijuana smells, sex as drug, jpegs of inexorably schizoaffective sluts, conducts a conversation alone, panicks

This desert, street malediction - counselors' conference bargaining. For what merits death is a toboggan careening out of control, a client off medication threatening the silence, a boy pornographically diseased

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