The Golden Limbs of Pornography

In coitus with shadows and sleeping with ghosts, it’s mirrored in her eyes. Descended from Bethlehem, I’m fragmented by the sixth sun. Particles of memory hidden beneath her city dress. Bursting from a ring of stones and circling the aged truth. Cutting and slicing at tired flesh; we’re moving beyond the cage of human remains. Rising, spreading always across the scorched earth. Collapsing buried specters and phantoms. Red with envy. Red with rage. Eyelashes like petals. Tongues as fingerprints. Teeth, white sharp. Milky breasts and mosaics on sepia horizons, solemnly waiting for a lover’s touch. Infinity in her gaze, she drills through stone and purgatory. Lust bombs placed one by one from her feet to her hips. A trail of breadcrumbs leading you back home. Desecrated images, and patterns in nervous exhaustion. Rivers flowing back to the source, from a trilogy of pyramids to the ruins of Blackpool Pier. Dancing linguistics, breathing the gods of old. In sepulchers they consume, feasting on mania, devouring the frenzy of her sex. Asphyxiated beneath the realms of sunken cities. Sluts, synchronized in their duplicity. Thirsty for physicality, they reduce all the time. Limbs of golden pornography, lulling you into submission. Against the landscape of sand and buried sisters, turning ever on. Burning wheels, spinning always forwards. Haunting through the mists of time, through the seas of depression, she stands in fields of golden corn. The breeze moves around her with the sun a halo upon her head. Hands secreting, she’s a silhouetted temptress, a monument to flux and drunken delirium. Through fire and wine, the streets of your hometown burn as insects scream. The seduction of women on the pages of scripture. All those visceral lovers, dancing for you against the ending world. Turn down the lights, and remove the rags that cover their skin. Bring desire, conjure the truth. The method of my madness is found blowing upon the graves left behind. On the surface, nothing is there. Dark glass, breaking at sunrise. Misery upon her waist, memories breaking as one by one the layers are removed. All those lost children, those stolen moments. My prosthetic faith, tearing apart with every breath. In my zygomatic arch, the alter calls. Levitating, she admires my cruelty. She allows herself to succumb to my delirium. The heat of smothered hearts skull-fucked then divided. In gleaming eyes, dazzling and synchronized. Leaving behind misery, we shoot forwards. The portal, the red abyss, illuminated by lust and Baphomets. The fire of burning tires, bodies slipping out of view. In slow-motion, she wraps herself around me as the car pulls into the lay-by. The hostages of my desire, ready for transformation. The past light of future glory, escaping through tightened throats. The key to our sex; skeletonized and jagged. The secrets of daughters and transparent wombs; distilled and safe like a necklace of dreams upon her bird-like chest.

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