In Memory of Antonin Artaud


Precisely a piece of shite fathers out of me,
the tail of a turd squeegees its glistening glans thru the
slit of delirium into the breathing death of the void.

You seep into me.  I seep into yr rotten sleep.
I am a wet prank muscling into the humus of yr
hairless hardness.  The thick leaves dangling over us
belch and scrape against the pregnant belly of a cloud
with low self-esteem.

In slow motion, my sperm-jizz wheedles out of yr
shitpipe like the leaping deer in the John Deere
tractor logo.  The clenched sphinx-sphincter pimps
infinity as I diddle with the pulsing shaft of my soul.
Yr hairy balls screw me with the gobbling grub
of a viable Incarnation.

Suck on my hole.  Suck-off the curvature of my
infamous anus.  Sniff the insolent riff-raff of my
squealing shite pipe.  I know you know where the
petrified dung of Paradise is buried.  It's buried in
there:  Open the grave tomb.  Nuzzle the raw thrust:
the blades of my lame testicles are the fish-bones
of yr fossilized tootsies.

Slats of light hone-in on you and lap-up the spastic
seizures of the retching ecstasies of my cum
twitching flat on yr back.  My last twilight implodes
like the humongous feminine ass of death bad-mouthing
my doused death-rattle.  Bulbous goosebumps
chicken-out in the burgeoning ultra-violet opening of
the tingling throes of yr amorphous anal-lard
inhibitions.  When I stick it out, you grip the slimy
shaft of my forked-tongue with the vise of yr
holy dickhead hole crowned with a halo of thorns.

The maddest of the Three stiff the Spirit who lusts
after no spunk-stench in the humus-chasm of the debris
of steaming hubris.  My immaculate veil is fluttering in
the breeze against the stretched membrane of yr odd
cunt.  I am in disguise.  I am a nun.  I am you.

With no shut-eye, I ingest the residue of yr lovely
shitpile.  It breathes, and I -- in love -- plunge into
what is to be.  I lick the loony goo of the flexing
boombox up your buggered snoot.  I buck-back for a
moment and dispose of yr male cunt's collapsing
breath.  My singed testicles squirt a spasm of deep gut
spray into yr ricocheting eardrums.  Writhing on
the brink, I unleash a shimmering glow against the
aching surge of yr brazen tonsils.  My hard
boogers are vibrating around a bit-off piece of yr
tongue and yr shuddering knee-cap shattered with a
tipsy tire-iron.

I stroke yr fur.  You blow me.  I blow you away
as my churning whimpers bulge and overflow over
yr decapitated nipples.  I fondle yr death with an
ever-entwining love.  In the morning I worship yr
high-heel-less ankles.  I suck on each limp inch of yr
lame torso.  Yet yr quiverless lips still gleam.

A nude stiff, I cut you open.  I unzipper yr skin.
I tongue yr still warm innards.  I fondle yr intestines
with their one-hundred-million microbes before
eviscerating them.  I french-kiss yr anus from the
inside out.  Dreaming like a virgin, I scorch yr
unpumping heart with a laser beam.  I gawk at
the stare of yr stunned-open eyeballs.  I tremble as my
prick penetrates into yr brain thru yr eye-sockets.
I nibble on the little wicked feelings I feel.
In a frenzy I cut yr asshole out of yr bum, and plop it
into my mouth, inserting my tongue thru the donut
hole, savoring it like a cherry gumdrop.

In a fever pitch, I yank-out yr heart and stuff it where
yr asshole once was.  Yr liver, kidneys, lungs and
bladder I toss over my shoulder into the sawdust.
I ache to swallow yr tongue whole.  I long to stick my
tongue into yr soon-to-be tongueless mouth.
I knock yr teeth out with a little hammer.  Counting
yr ribs beats the crap out of me.  I drop to
my knees and twitch in adoration, smirking.



--Bob BrueckL

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