A Sweet Tooth Moment

(a skin composed of milk

is a  backdrop for what will happen.

a much anticipated event

but no audience is present).


he told her a secret but she asked him to repeat it

(only in a soft soft whisper).

she gave him a sweet taste and burning veins.

(any movie will do).


her smile queried for a solar direction.

her eyes asked for a lunar purpose.

her flesh was clammy from the events of the previous day.


she was at the door,

it was an attack of unusual strength.

the depravity had her stretched. quavering.

they were lost in museums for the entire time,

the black tides under the moons were

touchy feely for her frame.


as one eye peeked out from the walls,

she washed his hair with rubbing alcohol

then tuned the radio to static.

a flesh fire dance in his brain


the foolish decisions that had precipitated it made her go forward

“my darkest sense just is,” she told him, “that’s why i had this thrill kill”,

“i was gazing at the semi-dark / and now it whispers.”


she continued to croon pain then left him in the surf, it was

nighttime: a tide erupted and took him away.

she cried then shrugged: the illusions of a lady.


Raw Weekend A Sliver Screen Confidential


Follow me

On the mainly negative dance floor

Fall down slowly and talk to the screen

zippering a window closed forever

ideas buried beneath the waves of light

a turning black-tide

a party was starting but the people had left

the motion mixed very well with my blindfold.


Swollen minds stretching from the moment

Quarantined as the eyes adjusted

Hooves polished the mare rode off

The women talked and stared at each other

Frozen grins laugh by laugh heard behind them


the next morning she transcribed

the events of the previous day

on a clipboard.



she lifted her skirt

admired herself

smiled at her exposure

adjusted her seamed stockings


she then walked

slowly home

slowly whistling and


gently stepping over twisting horizontal figures that were

slowly merging with dark widows.


By Peter Marra


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