A Brimstone Serenade backed by Crucified Nylon Figures

a loving figure at the base

caress the appendages

(whisper. whisper. “she wore high heelsheels

black patent, of course. of course, nylon seams with cuban heel.

on her right ankle she wore a rusty manacle to which

was attached a rusty chain – joining her to the aether, of course.

she fell backwards on the bed – the chain clanked on the black linoleum floor. the only think she was wearing were sheer black panties – her cunt lips were pouty. i played with my clitoris – good words. good words. blood is sperm ya know.”)

the waiting is the worst part

so much more painful

than anything she ever gave to her

back in time

away from time

on each side of her head, sea creatures whispered into her ear

slowly she opened her legs wide

fingered her purple wet labia

and counted the stars that dropped out of the cervix.

a whisper. many tiny voices under her breath.

the observers thought about her anatomy as their lips quivered

and the unattainable was further out now.

a single perfectly clear rivulet of moisture dribbled down and barely moistened the top

of her stocking. she licked the glass and vomited smoke. rebuilding dreams that

they held jealously. she forced their submission in a perverted vision.

Grafts are frequently used

well preserved skin slices and slurping as though she was enjoying

drinks from the wound and thrusts

Most starting to drive her crazy with

plasmatic imbibition

her heart rate slowed to match

Tears above the stocking tops. but not quite a huge orgasm

She remembered back to the transplanted skin

Video – crippled nostalgia for a certain time and place

Dreaming of death valley

By Peter Marra

http://www.angelferox.com

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