The Third Book of a Comedy that Wasn’t
Paradise is so savourless The narcissus is you It is me, it is the self god disagrees with The definition in the mirror you’re not supposed To look or you will fall Paradise is too much water in the milk The water that highlights the manner you will You will love yourself, want your self in The other, try to join the pieces together Clash clash Paradise is so soundless The other is another god The other is the god you’ll extract purples from The gold won’t endure, but you like that Paradise won’t make it enjoyable You enjoy building your lovemaking every day You enjoy the seven sins, you want the lust redder You want them as deadly as red can go You want blood, you want the inferno of feelings Paradise is a bitter dessert You want to be fucked with anger You want to be eaten silverless You want a change of semen You want your mouth full You want it painful, you want to scream Paradise is dead— Scream, scream! Until this cacophony creates another universe Redo the pristine order and chaos dynamic You are me and I I want the meaning of a dirty orgasm in a wasteland Paradise is an unsuccessful tryst on a tangent
The List
First time it was at school, behind the chapel I had just taken the wafer forced onto me And I decided to find the crux of it: The first was crooked It believed by wave in a dead God It hurt my throat I thought I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t But I wanted to, it went down and my voice stretched And the wafer was stretched, hot I didn’t know one’s throat could stretch And the more it stretches, the louder one speaks I am the one: the woman A woman on the train A woman with a cigarette A woman with a shopping bag Full of intoxicating fruits Goes home alone, makes herself jam Calls an entertainment for the day The eighth one was too common and Didn’t even impact inspiration to howl It was sometimes too lazy to descend to The Asphodel Meadows It was skeptical but cried before any thought of unhappy ending I could never understand why one would call in sick Not to deal with the dullness of a given thing Instead of facing it, sincerely Now, I am the one: the woman A woman culture-made A woman with a glass of cheap wine A woman watching the soap opera A woman spending the nights alone A woman in a mattress on the floor Furiously masturbating during the full Moon the front building is covering She’s been too tired from navigating her way To Tartarus everyday The thirteenth was prime It had monikers for me and was into Goddesses and Comedies It didn’t have any tendency, but it was monumental I was banged by the very sight of it, it was a scream by itself when it was inside He had gold coins and many in his history I didn’t know one could feel like so many And still be one And I was the one: the woman A woman who’s no goddess A woman who’s no saint A woman who wasn’t defined A woman before any man Who loves metrics but likes to break the tenses of who I am A woman out of the sea A woman out of the ash Rebuilds herself again and fires Up another torch: the world Burns She rises and takes over Another Earth, another satellite, another mythology The latest one, it got shy
Seven Deadly Sins
1. I was forced to go. Or at least that was what my mother told them. Let’s make that the first: I existed before god x. I am allowing myself to change the rules Is it a change, though? They’re all led to my mouth 3. I crawled to him, I asked him to make me This feels more accurate (5. I ask him for semen) 1. It is because I feel so free and I demand my freedom and I use it in every way And 3. There’s this thing I like to do when I wish to do I want to be his toy, his little puzzle I let him explore my holes, I beg him to get to the point He plays with my holes, I let him think he owns them 2. He’s so used to owning everything He has this flare this powerful look this capitalist smell I let him make me his property, queen of the demons 5. He feeds me semen, and it is sad that a man can’t bind the days to build a week outside of time He feeds me semen, I devour the hours 6. I am your god and all history was miswritten by jet-lagged cocks Who were too old for tomorrow supper’s stew 7. The dimension above is too much for us who chose a furious fuck over lovemaking: A plateau that is too much work for a look in the looking glass I long ago left the white-dressed me on the surface 3. and the channel to my holy grail was in flames But 6. I was enraged and I wanted blood I wanted each of my holes being used by a different demon, and all of those different demons being versions of their overlord: My king, and I would demise like the last Narcissus and 2. he would send his dogs to get the golden apple for me 1. I am his biggest conquest and I redeem him — I am the one who makes that cock sing through my throat the dawning announcement 2. He feeds me semen 4. My mother told everyone I was taken by strength, and I was: the strength is the very reason why I am still here The first time, he almost broke me in this position And I served him holy wine 5. Soon, he feeds me semen
From my full manuscript, The Gospel of Persephone.
Love,
A.
The Gospel of Persephone
Wow. All three poems are rollercoasters. They go up and down and I can't make out whether there is sadness or strength in them. Strength as in pure power. Or both.
Great writes.