The best thing since sliced bread this partnership / relationship. Two whole slabs of canna-buttered magic, set the scene for an esoteric mind fuck that wrecks our bed, churns what the water gave us into fountains of esctasy. You’ve ruined me. Turned my counterparts into full beam, full steam ahead where I don’t want to hide. Hiccups where opposing forces try to fuck with our chi, set us back a step or two but we bounce, roll & resolve. Easy to give up — walk away, put grandiose expectations down to paranoid delusions of grandeur. Our past lives set us up to fail, prove that point we once knew without a shadow. Done with kowtow! Fire; vibrating nuclear fission fuels my frequency, propels inertia from the fulcrum, devouring adversity like a black hole creates nothing out of something. I make peace my lover, pray to my Godhead & surrender my self to you & only you. My happy bubble blessed by a big God blessed by a bigger Goddess, stirring up a pagan concoction that’s good enough for royalty. Good enough, is good enough! You are my equal. I will fight to the death to hold on to you, knowing I need to let go ride the lightening set the Phoenix alight into freedom before the day is done. You’re big, blue & beautiful my whole world right here, now centred in my universe Florence & the Machine creating an atmosphere for us to breathe.
Cyberus the black dog, creeps in under Mary’s skin, licking his lips, penetrating her holes, gnawing away at her sinewy tendons and succulent bones.
He rapes her subconscious crawl space, probing his wet nose into her closet crotch, sniffing out the buried remains there like Cujo; gnarled lips, protruding tongue and crazed eye stare.
Mary pricks her ears, Cyberus howls at the April blood moon, his mourn calling her out from behind her silvery veil, behind her mindful interludes – moonbeams bleed crimson and red rivers pour from her nightmares blurring the edges of her days.
Cyberus spreads his malaise like a disease.
He infiltrates cavities and grey matter mimicking the ebb and flow of tides; dopamine highs and serotonin lows, squalls hovering on the horizon – the ramblings of a mad woman batting her eye lashes, baring her sharp teeth.
Mary flatter’s her fans upright for .50c an hour to satisfy Cyberus’ insatiable appetite, gulping down terabytes like an insomniac slip streaming strip scenes and Mary rubs herself raw, learning how to love the hands that feed her.
The water slides off her duck downed back, down valleys and cracks her bareback fingertips squeezing every last drip from her drops.
Mary turns off the shower, wipes away the steam from the window and peers outside. Two stray dogs have escaped lockdown, causing havoc on the streets.
She would take them both in and give them a good feed, if she had a backyard big enough to bury bones.
Tom stands outside on the pavement, peers up at the window, his threadbare trenchcoat just as superfluous as his empty pockets, except for the cornerstone content bulge. He watches Mary’s jailbird swagger dance and sway behind a steam curtain.
Cyberus can feel her skin crawl, he allows himself to rise – settling in between her mind and the blurred edges of breasts, buttocks and inner thighs.
You’d have to be bloody blind to believe Corvid19 is the dreaded lurgi: it’s only the common cold repackaged into the dreaded flu, commandeered to implement the first wave of a Globalist attack, the last Custer fuck for the dying imperialistic dream.
The bourgeois are creaming themselves for the last time, while socialism rises like a rogue wave revolting in it’s wake, leaving a trail of destruction in search of the snake – waiting for a drum roll and the last head to fall.
30,000 U.S. troops on the march in time to strategically coincide, singing My Corona and Uncanny Boy and the world follows the Pied Piper like a zombie hoard to a mass genocide. No masks. No suits.
The West is going down, but not without one final autoerotic spasm: a shit storm the size of China forcing everyone into the foetal position, while the banks foreclose with an enema.
I’m going to hedge my bets on the 1993, season 4, episode 21 of The Simpsons, and buy a bottle of Dettol and wipe the whole slate clean!
If I could do a Weinstein or an Epstein and get away with it, I’d want to open my mouth like Greta Thunberg and renegotiate a ‘Rommel Death’ with a slice of pizza but all the shaming I’ll leave to the Vatican, royalty, past presidents and Hollywood’s boulevard of broken dreams, to remind me I am merely a conspiracy theorist with a vivid imagination, trying to live a pipe dream.
The iron asteroid hurtles past Space dust — dark energy Not the wind whistling sand storms, Tidal wave anti — cyclones or Harmless sun showers prevent A near — miss tail spin Where nothing can be done. Superficial regolith and meteors Disintergrate rock and pock — marks Lightning scars part the urban clouds like seas Where acid rains peel back The layers of my molecules to dust
I can almost snap my fingers To create a sound wave. My soul Stratosphere churns watching you Leave — plumes, fireworks park Altered realities into multiple dimensions and Wag their jagged fingers beaming us up Like Scotty in the blink on an eye. Flashes to snuff-out-the-light Once and for all eternity astral Travelling a barrel ride to infinity and Beyond my dying plane, most Inter — planetary extraordinary
Life. Don’t talk to me About life — Lester harping on a song About red dwarfs and the intergalactic space Stations resounding radio frequency Alien probing My space time continuums white noise Sending shock waves to run rings Around any metallic meteors Jet — propelled into my slip stream; The birth of a worm or Black hole inertia sucking it all in? Only to return again, squeezed Out and moulded by my doppleganger
Land and a star is born. Super — nova core compressed Dark matter, gas and fission Fuse together my parts into a whole Where nothing can be undone And everything that ever was, is Chasing her tail feather An asteroid, full — speed ahead on a Magnetic collision course Forcing fields and gamma rays to Deflect decay once again, While shit storms still rain down and Charged particles and isotopes ping.