We love you and we love your bile
It’s time to stop pretending that certain things aren’t there.
We’re all aware of the small piles festering, turning brown
and smoldering under the heat of the summer sun.
For years they have been following you down the street on a string and stinking.
They are your mistakes and embarrassment.
You felt the heat on your heels as you stumbled through pubs and ascendant shops. For years you flinched each time the piles skidded to a halt outside a church and left a sweaty stain. You tried to mask that stench as it dribbled from your most pleasurable spots at dinner parties. Why, what's that hiding under your napkin? Whatever is that coating the plates and forks with a film that the chipper hostess could not scrub away.
Who me?
Stain the sidewalk?
Do not blame the humble hounds. Do not play the proud citizen, the mayor or the virgin mother…
You convince no one by hiding your guilty eyes behind the gossip column.
You are too old.
The charming young lie has died
for your stinking sins.
We recommend you embrace them. Plunge your hand in deep and confess the piles are your own bile.
Its time to befriend fear and embarassment. Bring the bile round to OURS for dinner. We shall crank up the phonograph, don our lobster bibs and slice it thick upon the guests plates.
Mashed it neatly with a fork,
Let us sup upon sin and self-loathing!
Do you like the taste? Do you like our company?
Among us you will not find carpools and cardigans.
We love you and the strings of spinach between your teeth.
Yes.
The time has come for us to reveal...
WE love bile
and
we love you.
To us, bile is a thick delicious nectar that the unwilling human flower secretes.
It is this nectar that attracts us to you.
We are training.
To harvest it like beeeees.
Sucking is the secret.
You mustn't be afraid of a little dirt or hair
or put off by the funky odour of human condition.
You must pirate irate desire and think painful thoughts.
YOU MUST hear the dark inky centre.
YOU MUST widen as you suck.
You must set it free in fields of raped seed
As you home in, your nose is filled with a scent of excrement,
A memory of erection,
A host of erotic encrustations.
Your time is limited,
you are not the same.
You will learn to trust us and obey when we command you to rise from the pavement.
Brush the mud from your knees and the hedge from your hair.
Do not attempt to return to normal society.
You are one of us now.
Even though your head hurts
and your cheeks are sore,
you must keep sucking.
We’re all aware of the small piles festering, turning brown
and smoldering under the heat of the summer sun.
For years they have been following you down the street on a string and stinking.
They are your mistakes and embarrassment.
You felt the heat on your heels as you stumbled through pubs and ascendant shops. For years you flinched each time the piles skidded to a halt outside a church and left a sweaty stain. You tried to mask that stench as it dribbled from your most pleasurable spots at dinner parties. Why, what's that hiding under your napkin? Whatever is that coating the plates and forks with a film that the chipper hostess could not scrub away.
Who me?
Stain the sidewalk?
Do not blame the humble hounds. Do not play the proud citizen, the mayor or the virgin mother…
You convince no one by hiding your guilty eyes behind the gossip column.
You are too old.
The charming young lie has died
for your stinking sins.
We recommend you embrace them. Plunge your hand in deep and confess the piles are your own bile.
Its time to befriend fear and embarassment. Bring the bile round to OURS for dinner. We shall crank up the phonograph, don our lobster bibs and slice it thick upon the guests plates.
Mashed it neatly with a fork,
Let us sup upon sin and self-loathing!
Do you like the taste? Do you like our company?
Among us you will not find carpools and cardigans.
We love you and the strings of spinach between your teeth.
Yes.
The time has come for us to reveal...
WE love bile
and
we love you.
To us, bile is a thick delicious nectar that the unwilling human flower secretes.
It is this nectar that attracts us to you.
We are training.
To harvest it like beeeees.
Sucking is the secret.
You mustn't be afraid of a little dirt or hair
or put off by the funky odour of human condition.
You must pirate irate desire and think painful thoughts.
YOU MUST hear the dark inky centre.
YOU MUST widen as you suck.
You must set it free in fields of raped seed
As you home in, your nose is filled with a scent of excrement,
A memory of erection,
A host of erotic encrustations.
Your time is limited,
you are not the same.
You will learn to trust us and obey when we command you to rise from the pavement.
Brush the mud from your knees and the hedge from your hair.
Do not attempt to return to normal society.
You are one of us now.
Even though your head hurts
and your cheeks are sore,
you must keep sucking.
posted by Camille at 4:16 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home