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Suas unhas penetram os corações corrompidos. Me deixa rasgar você. Me deixa matar você. Ela aparece como um delírio. Me deixa provar o seu sangue. Me deixa comer você. Seu corpo alto e esguio. Sua pele feita de látex preto. Me deixa mutilar você. Sua pélvis curvada para frente e suas costas arqueadas para trás. Me deixa estuprar você. Sua longa calda que se projeta por vezes parecendo um pênis gigante. Me deixa destruir tudo o que você já construiu. Carne, eu quero carne. Seus olhos são como tontura. Sua língua é uma navalha. Seus cabelos fumaça tóxica. Matar, matar. Eu quero matar.

A rua está escura. Alguém se aproxima. Mate-o!!! Está passando ao meu lado. Não olhou, não olhou. Bata na cabeça dele! A faca! A faca! O sangue jorrando pela nuca. O corpo em convulsão dita o ritmo do gozo. Assim! Delícia!!! Quase!!! Está vindo!!! Ahhhhhhhh! O corpo inerte caído na rua. Me deixa dilacerar a carne. Me deixa rasgar a carne. Sangue, eu quero sangue! Me deixa provar. Minha faca corta freneticamente. A Avulvva está comendo. Está gostoso? Prove a carne!!!! Venha, prove.

A faca está no fundo do rio. As roupas estão queimando. O sangue já tinha secado. O fogo é atraente. Não é? Coloque sua mão no fogo! Vá, coloque! Isso eu não quero! Quer, eu sei que quer. Vamos, queime! Não vou! Ela está rindo de mim. Está me chamando de fraco. Merda, estou atrasado. Lavo meu corpo, o sangue escorrendo pelo ralo. A Avulvva está me olhando. Seus olhos são como tontura. Acho que vou vomitar! Que merda! Que nojo! Ela está rindo. Que merda... Sangue, eu quero matar! Me deixa matar! Hahahahahahaha.

Há um verme se alimentando das minhas entranhas, tomando o controle deste hospedeiro,  me fala aos ouvidos como a serpente sussurrou a Eva, provei o fruto proibido da carne crua, viva, sangrenta, provei o metálico sabor do líquido que jorra das artérias e nele me banhei, infinitamente gozei e a voz gritava ao mundo a ópera de sua ruína. Fui aos confins da lógica e ultrapassei a linha, nada significa nada, impulso: isso me faz existir.

Hoje quero amar a vida, quero que cantem os rouxinóis ao alvorecer, vou atravessar os sonhos encantados das noites de verão, gincanas e cirandas, CRIANCINHAS. Adoro criancinhas. Vinde a mim as criancinhas. Tão inocentes. Corpinhos tão pequenos. Tão macios... e cheirosos. A Avulvva gosta de crianças, ela gosta de machucar as crianças. Criança levada, cuidado cuidado que a Avulvva te pega, cuidado cuidado que a Avulvva te leva. Olá quem é o senhor? Eu sou um amiguinho e tem um lugar cheio de jogos e doces que eu posso te mostrar. É mesmo? É mesmo! Cuidado cuidado que a Avulvva te pega, cuidado cuidado que a Avulvva te leva. Carne de vitela é a mais suculenta, é porque o mundo ainda não corrompeu o filhote. A princípio  geralmente eles não entendem o que está acontecendo, mas depois... Depois é possível contemplar o pavor genuíno, um pavor que não sabe conscientemente o que está acontecendo, mas o impulso grita que é algo muito ruim, então eles berram e choram. A Avulvva sempre bebe as lágrimas primeiro, ela escorrega sua língua de navalha pelas bochechas até os olhos. Se farta das lágrimas, escorre o sangue, se farta de sangue, dilacera a carne, a carne é macia, delícia delícia, Avulvva te COME, cuidado cuidado.. As garras te apertam, você fica preso. Os olhos te fitam, você vê o medo. Cuidado cuidado, criança levada.

Já trepou com a morte? A morte tem os lábios frios, um hálito quase podre que se prolifera pelo corpo. Imóvel. Inanimada. A morte tem a boceta seca. O pau amolecido. E o cú cheio de bosta. Ó morte, amante perversa. Amante passiva e voraz. Me deixa provar a carne podre. Me deixa sugar o sangue frio. A Avulvva está vindo. Ela caminha velozmente. Ela é o trovão e a tempestade. Me deixa enfiar a cauda neste cú. Me deixa comer as fezes mortas. A Avulvva nunca se sacia. O horror pulsa em seus olhos de tontura. Me deixa brincar um pouquinho. Ela está quase sempre rindo. Suas gargalhadas perversas. Não há nada além de prazer. Nada além da maldade. Me deixa estuprar a morte.
Sonhei com a Avulvva ontem. Anteontem. E antes mais. Meu sonho é Avulvva. Ela é a voz que guia minhas visões. Terríveis. Maliciosas. Deliciosas. O que há além da carne? Se algum dia houve algo, já não existe mais . Ó Carne, és minha única e verdadeira deusa, a qual posso provar, a ti devoro toda minha paixão, a ti devoto todo meu rancor.
Después de haber comido entrambos doce nécoras,
alguien dijo a Pilatos:
                               -¿Y qué hacemos ahora?
Él vaciló un instante y respondía
(educado, distante, indiferente):
-Chico, tú haz lo que quieras.
                                    Yo me lavo las manos.
Cuando regreso a casa no me lavo las manos
si es que he estado contigo un instante no más,
el aroma retengo que tú dejas en ellas
como una joya vaga o una flor ideal.

Por aquí huelo a rosas y por allá a jazmines,
alientos de tus ropas, auras de tu beldad,
aproximo una silla y me siento a la mesa
y sabe a ti y a trigo el bocado de pan.

Y todo el mundo ignora por qué huelo mis manos
o las miro a menudo con tanta suavidad,
o las alzo a la luna bajo las arboledas
como si fueran dignas de hundirse en tu cristal.

Y así hasta media noche cuando vuelvo rendido
pegado a las fachadas y me voy a acostar,
entonces tengo envidia del agua que las lava
y que, con tu perfume, da un suspiro y se va.
Gil Mar 2018
Coço a cabeça porque está suja.

Lavo a cabeça, mas não deixa de estar suja.

Por mais que coce e lave não deixa de estar suja.



É porque a sujidade vem de dentro e o cotão é difícil de limpar nos cantos do pensamento
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2021
i've always been tempted with the monastery... ever since visiting the Taizé community... then again: always concerning somewhere prior... the monastery where mummified remains of monks who died from cholera were exhibited... revising my romance with the Teutonic knights... the northern crusades... oh that the world has so much to offer... but i'm a terrible actor... and... if you're a terrible actor... and more... the worst imaginable liar... drama and life... don't exactly... mingle well... let the people have their sway and their freedom(s)... let them become... gluttonous with their desires and their thirst for the "lived experience"... let them abandon all manner of thought with purpose of transcending the ought-i-ought-i-not narratives... please let them... scramble for memory when it suddenly evaporates and there's that escapist tactic focusing on imaginings... don't let me use a language teasing moral overtones... let people... this... glistening prospect of... the ******* riddle with a fiddle... but... let these same people allow me to return to my abode of placebo solipsism... of where i put my finger for prospect of accountability... lavo manibus meum (vide cor meum)... but sure as ****... no mea culpa...

while doing some household chores...
a thought: one after another...
all deviation from ought-i
     ought-i-not(?)

            do i despise my own fellow countrymen?
the question posed by
those on the right regarding the politics
of the left...
um manibus
among the English and the Irish of
beyond merely the east end of London:
past the A406... once upon a time...
a space occupied by... mostly Irish
and 'ebrews...

3 years among the Scots...
but always, somehow... withdrawing from
contact with fellow Polacks...
out of spite?
or completely willing to integrate
to the point of "incognito"...
nothing good ever happened when
Polacks congregated on foreign soil...
let alone in Poland itself...
well... once upon a time...

     always among foreigners...
                   one Somali two Ethiopian
three a party with a Pakistani...
citizen of the world...
it's not even an original take on...
ancient Greek cosmopolitanism...
or the city-state...
beyond which: feral creatures roam...
****** jokes...

but i've been living in this cauldron for so
long that... upon returning to...
via commuting through Warsaw...
a great... nausea... a feeling of debilitating unease
of being thrown back into
a homogenous blob of sinew and sweat...
as if given marching orders...

that i speak more of the native than write it...
well... if i had a keyboard
that allowed me to shortcut all the relevant
diacritical marks...
e.g. miód & miot...

    honey...        litter: i.e. what a ***** gives
birth to... puppies...
of course the D & T can be sometimes
conflated depending on how they're / how they're
not stressed...

citing oath words like a cobbler...
****'s sake with Charlie Dickens and his
"orthography"...
what "orthography" in the English zung(é)?
there are no diacritical markers...
two options: "too many" vowels...
or... just an extra consonant...

litter... bitter... bite down on something: lite...
then again... third option...
plenty of surds...      light... no?
those are the three most poignant
characteristics of the tongue...

onomatopoeia: not an english word...
could.... would... gargantuan...
"too many" vowels... sometimes the odd extra
consonant in the vein of:
litter: literally... a manner of distinction
between: manna and mana (maori mana)...

and what appears to be... beyond a mere surd...
that vowel catcher that's H
that's half of the 'ebrew deity's name...
or a rugby post...

say AH... a request in dentistry...
or cite the alphabet: A: aye... A: aye...
    E:                eh?!
                    shotgun language shrapnel...
but to call anything orthographic in English...
or just plain: mistake...

e.g. miód "vs." miud...
                 hell... let's stretch it: mjud...
or even further... since... mjɵd...
no... this is not me attempting: smarter than you...
it's a ******* headache, while we're at it...
i'm thinking about this
because no one is thinking about this
and like hell these 26 pearls and a slug
of a tongue will ever manage to decipher, proper(ly)
the sound of a croaking crow...
at best... an approximation...

               where language goes to die...
in the beak of birds...
when in England: always the romance with
crows...
in Poland? it's either the romance with storks
or sparrows...

oh god... taking to grooming cats...
cutting the nails... brushing their hind...
one male one female maine ****...
i'm not into many fetishes apart from...
attempting to speak english grammar: german...
shoot me... before i speak a word of russia...

harasho?

         grooming a female cat and she's all
geared up... raising her hind legs...
*****... i'm here to comb you and cut your nails...
a ******* ugly scene: pinning her down...

then of course making the most sublime
tomato soup...
obviously adding parsley root...
a carrot... some leak, some celery...
if a celeriac was available...
two stock cubes... one chicken... the other vegetable...
approx. 250g of butter...
two cans of plum tomatoes...
a drizzle of ketchup... tomato purée...
a squeeze of sriracha... a whittle red chilli...
blitzed up and most certainly pushed
through a sieve...
served with some sour cream and...
as with any decent soup... that's not...
******* creamy-thick-splodge-custard-goo...
just eager for some croutons...
some vermicelli...

       but that... surprise of... some brandy
and zero sugar dr. pepper...
now i'm paying... bloated...
i drank two bottles of beer
puked one out...
ol' jack had to save my indigestion...
it's always a bad idea to eat and drink...
or drink prior to eating...
fine if you're drinking afterwards...
excesses of drinking and eating don't mix...

hardly a perverted stance...
but when a she-cat is gearing herself up to
you about to **** her...
while combing her and cutting her nails...
oh sure... on a regular Sunday
i **** headless chickens
with that pencil-**** of mine...
point of hilarity...

     and all "they" have is... egoism... attached to
an oversized phallus...
i'm guessing the sort that women use to
ready themselves for childbirth...
piston pump kicks...
once a tool: always a tool...
even the ancient Greeks minded the thought:
a large phallus is a sign of barbarism...
here you have... attempts at ennobling
savagery... while at the same time...
savaging  the citizenry...

    perfect combination, n'est c'est pas?
what could possibly be wrong with undertaking
the cesarean section?
if i were to **** out a head of a hippo...
and someone suggested... we might have to...
give your ****... some "exfoliation" revision, ahem..
details...
oh **** me: sign me up for that constipation
carousel! of... i'm guessing...
sexually gratified imps...

base topic... and you know this cat is gearing up
for *******...
well... i'd love to own a dog...
but then again: i wouldn't want to own
a muzzle or a leash...
the depictions of Hades and Cerberus...
no muzzle... no leash...
which is why i prefer cats...
that i was raised in an environment of dog ownership...
ah... Bella... that half-breed of an Alsatian...
Axel the dobberman...

no siblings...
     but to "own", sorry... to be with a woman?
and... all that... headache...
the game of jealousy...
i don't want to play it! sooner you find me
knitting socks as evidence that i have
**** instead of a protruding chimney
someone else started calling: whittle Wichard...
Ar Ar Arable land of lost phrases...

a dog's love is unconditional...
hence my revision of that celestial harem
promised to the invigorators of Islam...
give me 72 rottweilers...
i swear to god and no god...
we're dealing with fantasy land "details"...
or if you're going to stretch that fantasy
furthest... 72 of the most inexperienced... Lo...
    Lo               - but that's supposedly
the original promise... and you wonder why...
a ******* with only one woman
feels pointless...
why? well... there's that one unused crux
of a potential event...

      if i conjured up these parameters of belief...
guilty as charged...
but given that i'm only regurgitating these
pillars of: what amounted to the will of the idea...

- and if we still going to continue a discussion
on English... just recently... about 20 minutes ago...
FAUCI...
one commentator cited that spelling as...
FAU-SHE...
that's another thing that English does...
almost like it's... borrowing Fwench rules
of see-one-speak-another...
gobble up some suffixes... blah blah...
at worst: FOWL-KEY...
or... Cincinnati...

       oi oi: ms. cedilla!

mein gott: "they" were brought over,
probably sold by their chieftains for
(probably) being the biggest, most docile...
agreeable Nimrods of their tribe...
or weren't exactly puncture proof or quick...
oh! oh the lament of picking cotton...
so... not coalmining then?
- and for their invention of jazz...
to do away with the stiffness of Mahler...
etc. and forever celebrated for their
athleticism... although:
not their swimming...
well... you'd hardly find the 'ebrew celebrated
for this intellect... although: he probably
must be:
then again... the 'ebrew diaspora
and the Israeli... two different kettles
of about to be poached herring...

any herring that's not raw... Baltic-sushi is...
inedible... period!
so "they" weren't coalminers, yes?
no?
big ******* deal... i'm beetroot raw in
the face with blood being drained from
my tongue and fingertips!
i feel like doing some stomach crunches...
push-ups...
and it's... 20 minutes past... midnight!

misnomer-phraseology:
"hurt emotions"... completely misunderstood...
if you'd like to conceive the following argument:
i've jsut had my emotion stirred...
i have just woken up from apathy:
once i had the maxim:
apathy breeds no pathology...
it's great to feel...
to be woken up from the slumber of
objectivity and scientific rigidity... safety...
i like this... it's almost adrenaline inducing...

******-Goliath... i look at him now
like some sacred cow and think...
these petty gingerbread men managed to tame
these celebrated specimens...
and now... they have to... forget they gave us
jazz, the blues?

cuckoldry of the white girls teasing...
a few Bulgarian ****** tried the same...
telling me that black boy'os have the foetus sized
***** that might satisfy an elephant's ****...
while i have... to the dissatisfaction
of karma sutra coupling:
rabbit **** plucking petals from
a mare's ****...
because: the phallus is... important akin
to... to have ice requires freezing...
a temp. of below zero?

funny... that... looks like an ego boots from
where i'm perched...
this one *****'s surprise...
****** her and she moaned and she finished it off
with an ****** and the words:
the word... awe: but it was more of an ouch...
'it's only the second time it has happened to me'...
to my surprise...
i wasn't expecting to be a metaphor
of a Trojan cohort, either...
me and my supposedly pencil-**** with not
praise-songs...
of... readily-available: readily-pleasing...
i guess bulging on points of character...
with this other one...
kissing her eyelids...
suckling at her tears...
teasing the elbow... the knee...
the grooves of the collarbone...
her knuckles...

it's perfect... so serene when i'm paying for salt...
it's so pristinely primed to pay
for clearly-founded boundaries of:
me towing woman...

- i too have my boundaries... shifting like
tectonic pancakes...
the glorified amorality of women...
once every four years...
that's enough...
i don't need insect-esque gratifications...
there's plenty...

- which is why i adore advertisements more than
journalism per se...
let's pair them together:
advertisers and journalists...
expand... journalists are not historians...
nor... myth-crafters...
perhaps... if one might be amnesia prone...
but i love advertisers for the simple reason that:
i, don't. have... the... money... to... spend...
on... their... worthwhile...
it is worthwhile... *******...

       if you don't have the money to spend...
cue some advertisement slogan:
it's unbelievably encouraging to
continue: however the hopelessness
of bachelorhood is deemed by...
well... if a woman masturbates with the use
of a *****...
i imitate a **** with a boney hand...
and probably perform one genocide after another...

it's not like i hate Polacks...
fellow people...
i don't live among you...
and i'm not going to satisfy a diaspora "get together"...
either...
i'll take the romance of history...
some variation of journalism...
some Cornish clotted cream...
                 it's not like i had some relevancy that
might translate a point of...
because one might be from Warsaw...

and under the Nazis and the overtly ambitious
Bolsheviks...
as a ******... you think i can't brush this
Vestern... voke... brigading: "anti-fascist" *****...
ahem... aside?
you need to come full-swinging...
******* hammer & sickle...
you know... it took two superpowers,
longer... to conquer Lachistan...
than it took herr H to overpower... France...

the worst that might happen... mob rule...
i become cancelled... 2nd, 3rd... 4th time i'm so tired
of this same-old *******-riddling a **** that
i might as well attempt to rub my genitalia in
sand or... shattered glass...
no matter... no one to beg the "difference"...

the Sarmatians... no wonder i would base...
favouritism for the Shiah branch of Islam...
Iran and Islam would never pair up, proper...
after all... what excuse has a proud Iranian to do with...
a bunch of camel-jockeys?!
true religion... i'm so abounding in thanks
for seeing how early a schism took place...
thank you...

bad grammar: i'm so abounding in thanks for how early
a schism took place... see / sought what?!

i don't hate my fellow... ethnic... countrymen...
i just live among them...
and not living among them makes my
thinking: dissonant: dissociative...
i'd allow the union jack get tattooed on my ***
if i were guaranteed a *******
by some english ****...

just saying... *** isn't pwetty...
pour me a proper glug of bourbon and let's forget
the "matter" even existed...

oh i'll find: hounding reasons to keep this
language is some variation of a check...
the clarity of pronunciation....
beside the letters as surds...
and those... no entirely... used?

to love a people most foreig...
it's not like England was expected to declare war
just because... "my" country was invaded by...
two superpowers...
it's not like Brussels mud...
Polish "aviators" in dog fights over Dover...
but no... English soldier on... ****** soil...
so... so?
journalism kills of history:
day by day... each day...
give 'em enough murk and muck
enough smoke... enough mirrors...
and some bread to tow... stale...
hell... reinvent the point of the coliseum!

the modern Italians aren't the ancient Romans...
why?
the orthodox liberal: implied: satisfaction
with the word...
and the men were such grand... surrogates...
the women were allowed to be children throughout...
unaccountable...
***** bank-loads...
           avenues-for-future...
but the ancient roman men were so...
libertine...
in their take on being, the aliases of...
surrogate fathers...
when all other ancient peoples demanded...
pyramids and authentic lineages...
these people came along and...
gay giraffes...
******* gay giraffes...
o.k. gay giraffes...
                  
ancient Rome never achieved clausure
of "my" people...
we weren't.. Afghani... lingering GREAT
Britannia...
the supposed arguments only came after...
beside Philip Augustus...
who, who else?
          
by the passing of waters...
the trivial feud of the tides...
and the counting of grains of sand...
the viking celebration of poetry...
and the current conundrum of...
all that's a misgiving of aimed at... practicing...

Ecgberht!
     Ecgberht!
                             Ecgberht!

now let me enjoy a drinking-repose...
i've said enough:
in that... i've said too little or nothing at all...
time will teach...
space will pulverise with newly established
standards of science...
time will teach...
      break the Runes apart...
open a grieving momentum for...
reading Glagolitic...

                   revive: Eck-bert for me...
i have some cringe question.s.. to ask...
mein: brecht... Xa Xa... not Aguera's Ja...
Greek... although spoken Greek does sound
a bit too much like Spinning-the Leotard...

bit-the-knuckle...
               baited-the-nail;
hammers' for some: schpoons!

— The End —