Hairline Fractures
Pale colors
She lay awake afraid to move
Shocked by her own murder lusts
A long silver needle slowly had been
inserted in her mind
the ecstatic corporate scientists were
Injecting multiple objects
deep inside
suggestions and accusations
The radio was too low to hear just subliminal twisting
Human needs obliterated
Need some prayers that will fix it
Put me back together remember the lost souls
Mindless chanting mantras of nonentities
when this is over
touch me in the heaven (out there dancing with air)
scrambled list:
the third movement of the second female
hounded by the Sinister
(coming soon)
the walls were streaked with grey
the crescent between her legs squirmed out of control
a burning white-hot puncture in the celluloid void
the cell structure was changing
behind the ancient city walls, ears bled
her fingers trembled
there was music at first, driven sideways
predominated by the bass line
it grew fainter
under the floorboards it hid as a soft throb
gullible conclusions
irrevocable collisions of collusions with her abusive lovers
stripping down the enemies
sleeping under a glass ceiling
lit brightly by moths aflame
her skin responded under her gentle caress
one thousand deaths of transient insects
hairline fractures dosed with concrete hallucinations
her name was Velvet
she was a cannibalization of summer
“i do things i film activities.
many people wouldn’t attempt this,” she said.
“sliced up my childhood dreams
no, i’m here
captured on celluloid in a dank basement
holding myself so i don’t shake”
She spoke of the clandestine meetings: “I tried to follow
and mimic
the action that was being
revealed on
the screen. I tried sooo.. hard. My legs were
shaking. Not tired. No…I’m not tired.”
–Peter Marra
Poetry