I couldn't even tell you
shock value
she cleans the television screen
leans in to hear the quiet screams
a house fire on the other side of town.
I couldn't even show her
dead motor
we stare beyond the dashboard
pulled apart from blunt force
I promised to take you away from here.
I never tried to reach them
prickling with cold from her new death
lifting up the blankets to remind me of when she was still fresh
the girl I had chosen to be with
I promised I would take her away from here.
Diary of a Mortuary Assistant by Memphis-Poison, literature
Literature
Diary of a Mortuary Assistant
Diary Entry No. 1
The basement is colder than I expected it to be. But the cracked, lifeless eyes of the deceased that enter our Parlour of Death (Roger's nickname for it) provide a weird release that takes my mind off the cold. Oh sweet loss of life! How your treasures tantalise me!
Roger believes my attitude is improving. Perhaps this is because I have taken to sucking his dick more often.
No news otherwise.
Diary Entry No. 2
One of the bodies actually went missing today. Roger called it 'a nightmare' (I thought he meant because it might have turned out to be a Zombie, but Roger says stuff like that only happens in movie
Surge
the horizon never looked so close &
none of those photos looked like us stop
pointing your camera at me &
we
surge through
the waves crashing down
on her &
she never looked so
close to the goal. the beautiful climax
burst forth from you &
turned to dust in the flash the band
plays on
& on.
Home: An Appreciation. by Memphis-Poison, literature
Literature
Home: An Appreciation.
In a city as dense and compacted as this one, it was always hard to find an abode to settle down and set up shack in. We moved from place-to-place like the whole tired, contrived routine was going out of style. We found palaces and we found prisons. We sought out the ritzy apartments of the inner-city and the sprawling, lazy Queenslanders of the suburbs, always rolling into the new set-up like we already had the Heat at our heels, frightening the neighbours and bringing in a horrific tirade of dead-beat shit-stirrers who liked to munch away on our left-overs.
We'd slam the unsuspecting nights against our beating chests and embrace them with
Hollow from the thump,
the bumps and groans at night.
My body lifted, thrown aground,
we get the angle right.
We make the calculations,
we remember to carry the one,
we settle down at the correct degree
and this is how we make love.
We time our glances accordingly,
we remember to vary the pace.
We rotate when the time is right,
we avoid the other's face.
I lift my hand to touch your hair,
you put yours on my hip.
I remove, and touch your back instead,
you choose when we lock lips.
I moan, you whimper in reply.
I arch my back on cue.
We keep our heads upon the pillows,
I keep my eyes on you.
I stiffen, you grunt
Winter for the Homeless by Memphis-Poison, literature
Literature
Winter for the Homeless
Winter for the homeless
was the word upon the streets.
In a hundred different moments
we were bruised, but never beat.
Faint and close to pavement,
we were the litter on the roads.
Shot-down, forlorn and hungry,
we took the performance to the show.
I was a while yonder,
bound down by shade and air,
contracting and releasing.
I stole the steps from all the stairs.
A chasm was vibrating,
sending out all sorts of noise.
Paid daily for the transport,
I accepted and enjoyed.
Strapped on, heart-beats were failing.
Jolted quickly to the floor,
wail higher, little solider.
Theyll hear you for years more.
Protrude an
Untited -Chapter One- by Memphis-Poison, literature
Literature
Untited -Chapter One-
Chapter One
The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the bus and my shoe-trapped feet hit the freshly air-born dirt of this nowhere town was you. I witnessed you candidly discussing the state of the world today with the beasts and the air.
"Today," your eyes spun wildly, discovering the back of your skull,
"Today I read the newspaper and I felt that I had been warned."
You looked earnestly into the seraphic eyes of the ginger cat rubbing itself against your calves.
"Today I read the newspaper and I felt that I had been warned. But today I also chose to live and I will continue to witness the slow demise of the only world I will ever
Treasure under
charcoal skies
hide a river paved with gold.
Tumescent folds,
scarred pathway found,
clay silk just built to mould.
Shrouded deep in smokey waves,
storms leave me in disarray.
Scattered soundwaves
consume my sight
and his night became my day.
Shredded to pieces
on leopard skin,
tumbled swiftly to the sea.
Consume my wreckage,
blind me with twilight,
I am your mystery.
Marvel onwards
we tremble sky-bound
with metal in our veins.
Air is fetid,
stuck in cycles.
We submit all to the waves.
Shouting strangers
rule in public,
in their lonesome bedroom dreams.
Careening softly,
we barely made it.
Soon another moment leaves.
Say goodnight and go.
Hecklers hassle in the streets
in this humid ocean town.
We're on the run
from daughters and sons
we no longer want to be.
Memories cut out
at the point
when life turned into this.
Our modern songs
turned into sing-a-longs
while we were day-tripping out of here.
A momentary lapse
on the sunny side
let strangers see the truth.
We're too dumb to be sane
in these dying days
when we've seen the greener grass.
Managing to constantly
steal the show
during our shock-fest vanity trip.
I gave in to the slide
as I lost my mind
and greeted the abyss.
I couldn't even tell you
shock value
she cleans the television screen
leans in to hear the quiet screams
a house fire on the other side of town.
I couldn't even show her
dead motor
we stare beyond the dashboard
pulled apart from blunt force
I promised to take you away from here.
I never tried to reach them
prickling with cold from her new death
lifting up the blankets to remind me of when she was still fresh
the girl I had chosen to be with
I promised I would take her away from here.
Bite it
Mmmmmbop
Bite harder
when she
freaky lipped it
to the boulevard
to all the
overweight retards
They s t a r t e d
the stampede
and now
you're me.
And we're happy
in Japan
with our broken windows
showing
the mist
that flew us here.
BABY!!
You're strong
you're stronger than me
with your ankle weights
and pretty whores
dangling off your fingertips.
Mesmerised by
you fucking cunt bastard shitfaced alcoholics
that go to all the trouble
of making it 'dry'
I tied a rope to my existence
and wrapped it around my neck
taking the jump
Letter from the editor:
Sometimes people write good things that make you open up your eyes and go "Wow, lets all analyse this!" and, sometimes, people write things that make you want to vomit up every single word you've ever read.
This story was one of those things.
I appreciate every single comment left here, they made my day over and over again. But this story was empty and meant nothing.
It hung in the back of my head and was a constant reminder of how pathetic and lifeless I can be sometimes.
This is not an insult to those who liked my story entitled "Tricycle Heart", it is an explanation as to why it's gone. I did not like it and, a
Do you love her
With open legs?
With open orifices?
Like back-alley
bad guys
Shine on.
Suppository
You're shaky
with the
cold burn
Slow
Invented aftermath
of her
l o v e.
Slackerbitch
like melancholy
inside molecules
And trebel
tremble
Because you found me
In the back-alley
Junkie
You
Slippery down
your jugular,
like water on flame.
Lights you up,
Your toenails like
little stars
and you shine on.
I could sleep in you
(Bay bee)
Crack your
ribcage open
and replace your heart
Sleep i n s i d e you.
Baby, I could lie to you
And slam my
frigid fingers
deep inside
your junkie holes.
I lost myself in you.
I saw an emotion
spitting out love juice
on the pillow under me.
I saw pubic hairs
on his scalp
and golden locks underneath.
I saw grassy eyes
and landscape cheeks
hiding behind a gaping hole.
I saw a goddess waiting
in a rip in time
like an insect in a 'bulb.
I felt the water
turn to acid
just past my 7th cartilage ring
and when I saw
the "sad comic display"
I forgot just how to blink.
I remember thinking
the hallucination box
had always told the truth
When a vacant man
with a microphone s
Sometimes he wakes up bright and early
and the sunlight loves his skin
sometimes he's bent over double 'til evening
And screams for the pain he is in.
Sometimes I kiss him and leave pink on his lips
and he asks me to never let go
Sometimes I leave marks on his skin
and banish him to the badlands, but he finds his way home.
Yesterday he cried for the length of his past
and yelled through the hair in his eyes
He came screaming through from the life he once lived
and begged for the love he denied.
Yesterday he scrambled and scratched his way through
the day, from dawn until dusk.
Yesterday he invented new words
to describe the w
In the hours leading up
the light danced through swift poles
and swayed slowly around
the city of love,
housed the monstrosity of ignorance
and
arrogance that the world once called 'Woman'.
Silent flashes branched out into the night
reaching stealy arms into the abyss
dragging startled eyes back with them.
Printed x10 on glossy.
Moments they stood and stared at the cross
transfixed by the dilemma
that religion manifests in the hearts of
the heartless.
They celebrated love with stories and wine
dragging their emotion-drenched bodies
through the evening
and made polite conversation
that landed in the echoes of shouting and
Current Residence: The Gates of Hell Favourite genre of music: 'good' Favourite cartoon character: Catchphrase Personal Quote: "My life is a haphazard journey of epic proportions."
Favourite Visual Artist
Today: Tord Boontje
Favourite Movies
Today: Dark City
Favourite Writers
Haruki Murakami
Tools of the Trade
My sweaty, greasy organs and my frigid, lifeless fingers.
Maybe you will show my pictures to a boy who said he loved me when we were young,
and has become used to remembering me.
Maybe you will show my pictures to my grandparents, let them know I loved to have fun,
had friends that cared,
a world for them to share.
Maybe you will put my picture in a frame, a face your new friends can't name
they will wonder why I never come to your parties.
Maybe you will talk quietly to me, all the things you never said
kept safe with the dead
and I will be there for you.
Maybe you will ignore my picture, let it become a wall-hanging in a house you spend most of your time away from
and I will gathe
I saw the sun set over the ocean.
I saw the sun set over you and I, over everything I have known a town that
let me sink into it a dead-end
I dead heart thrown into decay spinning angels
came down from the cities, from the mountains to whisper to me in the night
and I don't feel welcome anywhere though, I don't know who I am or how to offer myself to anyone.
I am lovesick, I am so, so alone. I can see you all, smiling and laughing.
Derranged in fabulous dresses bursting forth in sexual waves of absolute splendour and I am
slack on the tarmac, dead inside of myself a sedentary ocean.
Flat.