iv
A BOOK OF SERMONS
She have never been able to take the tip of a man’s cock
fully into her mouth. It was like a locking mechanism. She could
be near to it. She could touch it. She even rubbed an eyeball on
her boy friends cock when they were both at University in England
before the plague decimated student life.
She could do just about anything. She could have the testicles on
her cheek, the tickle of pubic hair a true arousal enhanced by
the sour musk of the last defecation stain in the slid down
underwear. She adored the sharp sting at the tip of her tongue
ready to penetrate the slanty little piss hole, the cumm hole,
the weeping exit of the lava pipe.
But as soon as the glans got beyond the line of her front teeth,
you have to get her to a doctor as the gag reflex takes over and
she goes down breathless, choking back the dry heaves, wanting
more than anything to swallow whole. To gargle his short hot
burst of life. She’d freeze, unable to just close her mouth
round the hot begging end sitting up in the gloom like a
poisonous mushroom.
The Romeo/Juliet Syndrome psychologists call it for want of a
sensible term.
In his home called La Bastille he was a mute by contrast to his
ring persona. He would point, grunt. When he chewed his food, his
front dentures squeaked. Sigmund Freud was in there too strapped
to a dining chair impersonating his fat wife, her innards all
down her legs, spilling out into the kitchen a lake of black
blood. A plate of food thrown against her flaccid chest. Forks in
her eyes. The stale taste of blood in the gums , the tooth
loosening after a punch to the lips. The ancient meets the modern
in a contemporary cock lick of fate as brother and sister re-united
plot their future reign together.
Black panthers prowl about the frozen dining room licking the
salt from old wounds - memories of Cat People and the shadows
that growls and grow into ferocious shapes. Interrogation on
insanity.
The devil disrobes with a pair of blunt scissors. Eyes of a
shark, black nictitating membranes unsheathe. Moonlight on black
water as the spearshaper hammers at wrought iron. The black
skinned allure of Cleopatra. Spill scene. Mewling cat vaginas
bathing in tepid ass milk. Ducking surface of lard. High contrast
cross fade of fear into lust into laughter, balling laughter that
rocks the house for millennia.
Everything Is Fine.