[Unfinished sample piece from the ad-lib collaborative work in progress between Jeremiah Ambrose & Nathan Griffin-Murtagh]
The doctor, his big thumb like a clout, placed it carefully on her. Suspense. The mouse ran through the crystal creek. Flabbergasted. A balloon belly floating above the alcoholic dimples of her face. Drifted through his snarling rage… Forget the other watch, look down towards the belt with extra notches. Your buckle should of had at least had 19 gauges before it could be whipped off and blasted through your mother’s face. Her sagging skin peeled away leaving behind a childhood smile. The testimony of Doctor Charles Gladsome, his erotic foray into the snatch box, cuffed with tobacco vanilla scent, Beth rubbed her cheeks with fire, 1970′s dreamwood the man cut his running nose with a rose from the black space the outer-perigum. Marching birds trampled the bus stop, twisted the neck, drowned in mud, church noise fucked the boys hind legs flying, heart slowly deteriating like a badge worn from the elements. ‘Are you ready to come up on stage?’, ‘Are you?’ ‘Yeah’, grooves followed him. He thought back to a time before his nipples had formed. It disappointed him, but at the same time dripped bittersweet nostalgia on to his now bulging tongue. The Bee buzzed along his throat and pricked deep inside the yeasty nest of his throat. Bloated, he drifted along the clouds until eventually he met with his beast Father deep in the church-like glory of a snow cloud. In the whiteness he could see the bags of bursting flesh spill from the sky, leaving him feeling sweaty, but also cold. He rolled over onto his back and let the chill burrow deep into his skin. Then they held each other for a while. The frost melted from his toes as the beast forced his passion onto his body. Mapping his desires and his fetishes with bruises and blood.’Do not get maple syrup on my atlas, it is very important, it was given to me by a young pirate who had a cardiac arrest the other eight, sully him and I will break your lips into streams of ugly fucktums’ Charming man , a figure laced in the latest trends, shoes made out of hedgehog excrement and highly refined starch, ‘whateva, the cool follows me’. He shuddered when she turned away, ‘Are you turning away from me bitch, HEY I AM TALKING TO YOU BITCH’. I was frostbitten black, but nobody seemed to care, they just wanted me to do the Rasta dance. Under a speaker on a trolly I learned this special jiggle and before long I stopped applying the medicine to my ragged skin. Eventually the stench tore through my conversations until finally one day it began eating all of my friends Livers. They didn’t really seem to mind. What I hadn’t learned yet is that both them and their Livers had seperated a long time ago, leaving behind whimpering messes of children that I had somehow learned how to call friends.TALK TO ME DNA TALK TO ME DNA TALK TO ME DNA TALK TALK TALK DNA ME TO. Eight charming bodies, pristine condition, bruises, blood, frost, when she shutters, you come, rememer rub your finger along the…give yourselve to her. Four pounds it’s quite cheap, her body like a needle vibrating, colours shimmering into choked dissent until a little bluebody bliss is cupped by the statue near the creche, numbers on each cannon, prepared for the utmost pain for the backs of those who did not come onto her. For those who prefered to jack off onto their own nipples. For everbody else, there was whithering delusions of the past and being tucked in at night. He creeped in that night and tucked me in so tight that the ridge of my dovet strangled me to death. He stood in front of an open window with a jaundiced grimace. The cool air dusted his breath across the room. Like lying in front of an open fire he eventually warmed up to me. Running, he grabbed my limp body and gave it a limp hug. Then licked like there was no tomorrow.
owlwink
