All Fours
When she was a child, Marie decided to live her life as a horse She greatly enjoyed her agony, but eventually the humiliations of The saddle lost their appeal She lives with me now, in this house Where every night we play the same game It begins at dusk; Marie taunts me with her naked breasts, which hang like Dazzling moons, then I dump one of our many overflowing Ashtrays over her body The ashes cling to the urine on her torn Clothes forming new, amusing patterns each time At night she Reenacts scenes from her passion She kicks and screams on all Fours—her violent dressage thrills me When she is too tired to Move, I collect the bitter flakes from her head I press against her Naked body and squeeze it until she loses any remaining Pretense of beauty These acts are nauseating but necessary
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 26, 2026
Observe your years of anonymous industry from a distance You exist suspended in the fumes of a postulated hell Where fatigue and despair are unchecked: The city’s streets are filled with people in a tableau of routine One day, you trip on a broken road and they scream and cry You settle waist deep in their insults while Your life’s work is scattered by their stinking breaths Remember that you existed in the same place one year ago, ten Years ago, etc Escape quickly into a proliferation of momentary rooms Choose the room where you will become a corpse on a bed and Wait for your moments of anonymous sleep to gather close then Expand lengthwise The people will remember you for your large nose and receding chin
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 26, 2026
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A subtle change in the light or an abrupt noise Perhaps a word or phrase that ignites the intellect A decision made on a whim or after careful consideration The slightest incident… Any of these might be the catalyst which Starts one racing inexorably down the road with the darkest Conclusion
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 26, 2026
On the other side of the glass, the night asserts its authority, but we are inside, suspended by spirits, and preserved in a healthful light that fills the room and shines out through large windows to the edge of the clearing Twigs crack like whips as a woman emerges from the forest. She steps forth, bearing a dark cylinder; it stands in prominent contrast to her nudity as she moves into the light The room is crowded, but I’m the only one watching as she takes the cylinder into her mouth. She smashes the window with that object. It lands at my feet—a bar of black soap, rigid and wet. The party stands transfixed as she crawls through the broken glass. The Light grows dim... ...and with her mouth full of lather she announces “I come from the City of Hair beyond the Wrinkled Mountain and I Will not rest until I’ve washed every penis in this room.”
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 26, 2026
Unseeing Melancholy, whose vision is obstructed, but not asleep Advised a young man to inhale her bilious gas from a bottle Whose interior is lined with mirrors The look on his face after he breathed that vapor startled the Gardener Whose vast city of plants sustains the bees “Reflect upon your life which is irreversible like my draft,” she Said The young man nodded, and who can describe his hope or Regret that afternoon? His mouth twisted in a demure smile as if it was all a joke The frantic gardener rushed about the yard While the boy sat on a patch of earth near the backdoor Waiting
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 26, 2026
Fell into the space between thoughts His six plump breasts surged and emptied All desire and language fell away And just as he began to grow transparent The image of a cabinet occurred to him It’s open doors a symbol of inanimate mercy The temptation to struggle was rehabilitated But the cabinet soon tumbled away Pulled by the gravity of a distant stream The tips of ideas exposed in its current Like feet from under a long dress That modest glimpse of flesh which belies A profound expanse of passion Hidden in a cavern of billowing cloth And he fell and his body leaked
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 26, 2026
I traveled to the province of staircases The great variety of Balusters, railing, finials and steps filled me with awe Many Looked welcoming, while others were intentionally obscured or Blocked up, and some were decorated with vibrant warnings to Anyone who might ascend I found the most modern looking Staircase and climbed After a while, I stopped on a landing to Rest This extraordinary landing was home to dozens of living Statues, obsequious stone gods begging for spare hands As I Explored, a loud commotion with historic consequences occurred Somewhere behind me When I looked back, there was a curtain Drawn around the event I turned to the statues for answers, but They remained inert and silent, their jagged stumps eager for relief
Submitted by Corpse Defiler — Jun 26, 2026