The trouble with being a woman, Skeezix, is being a little girl in the first place'
'If this is Hell, then Hell could not be much, neither as special or as ugly as I was told.'
I am diagnosed dragging on a Camel, staring at the river, full of all the selves of detachmemt from my actual one. They used to be me as one self when I was fused into the wall of my mother, before I came here to this bridge.
I am deranging like the splitting haloes of car headlights...
And dead men tell no tales… This is not true. Returning as ghosts they front the T.V News telling a m a z i n g stories which strangely people still believe despite the much evidence they are tales written by the puppet-masters who control them from beyond the grave- yard.
Look into her eyes and you will see what’s coming for you!” She shuffles She blinks The sweat sliding down my back boils She was coming for me The hour of dear death was arriving Greasy lightning balls and blood-soaked whips adorn her.
In pastel sadism, she stands so tall her bones crackle and skin ripples New beast forming, green bile foam Her wings spreading, her jaws anointed The sloppy sting of her tongue The cold detachment of her thighs Castles crumble for thee
When the dawn comes, I will be scattered to the...