Sunday, November 18, 2007

deliria 6

it goes like this not few but you many and after the spurned with who I would rather practice boundary issues yet you bend over my table with your several pounds of arse ready to be pinked up like pimentoed turkey breast the table is turmeric against your arms flesh plump as a stuffed satin cricketer’s crease without its wicket I would rather practice boundary issues than fall into their embrace their little pulse race ripening to a good crescendo I go for the fat for the duck white innard for the slap for the repetitive for the reaper’s aft your cleft beckons its slime smile I pace similitude along the rug’s edge penury sheep coins in a field corn in a goatskin bag a prodigal reckoning the story beckons how you turned up at the door your trousers a useless disguise your shirt to be folded against torn your shoulders wearing their own roseola your rim ready I would rather practice boundary issues skim wait turn bait there is a murder scene bodies discovered grim archeology and your sweat flekking up little shuddery micro-worms and perhaps afghanistan given a turn and a mention of some new device to catch anyone who speeds and your seeds unsettled and something male and not extra but ordinary stirs and somebody affirms some early day motions jools holland looking haggard and I won’t let your fingers wander from their plinth and your offering squirms and I have birthed babies through the place where my open shut slut churns ah quoins ah scrutcheons ah chili-burn schisms in the indecisions I would rather practice boundary issues if you’d ever put payment on this table how rich how stench nourished your feckless lack of intercourse ah pepper me pearl be girl I would unfurl whiplash clichés I would sell all tell no one I would rather practice boundary issues than confirm this could be a hatchet or a cleaver or a surgical nomenclature I would have neither weapon nor yoke your sissy swirls your bracelet distraction your fathomless need for a spokesperson on a local traffic problem a choice of channel a definite prizewinning ad all irony some tune some fad some idiotic comedian and the dressing of you goes on and on and her dad had waited for them to find her body and opera now leslie garrett with a voice slightly less cat than celine dion and I let you over your legs ajar and you manchest plumped and not bare for long for underwear on and dare enter and there is where this is where I would rather practice boundary issues buried in the brownfirm curled little hurt as ready and as coiled as a wordspring I whisper filth on queue and practice boundary issues and you and the EU summit lines up to be photographed and I enter in search of a heart and your fucksmart demeanour withers and the hurt and the carpet and the burn

These are both brilliant and mouth feel (not the right word) like bitter chocolate and perhaps the stem of a honeysuckle.
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