Submission Guidelines

Sunday 1 July 2012

Peter Marra-

Hecate in the Delinquents Room

shuddered, she closed her eyes and out of a dark corner of the bar,
her lips appeared to glisten.
perfect eyelids, brilliant complexion.

there's been a shooting, a hidden desire.
the map is burning between her legs
no direction anymore.
crescendo flames lick the trophy
she licks the night clean
as she plays with the toys destroyed by

figures without faces.
her verses were victims for
renowned psychics that died lingering deaths
as they're watched by figures without faces
feeling lost.

the duce 42nd street will return.

a porn star in a sexy wedding dress
a target for a subway in her head
she cruised all night,
retrieving the poems she had memorized
long ago placed between her legs.
pressed in deeply
the words burned.

the air scalds the lungs
of a triple formed goddess.
she started to laugh
at the remains of an unclean idea.
hit the wall.
she had no idea
no time.
grand central terminal vomited her up.

shuddering with her arms around herself.

the drug dealers are dreaming between the shadows
dreaming behind the walls
a slow dance.
another day grows weary
a trance
she has a face and a sinister feel
that crawls throughout
that crawls through in
the only church where drugs are cheap.

born and raised in the hard(core).

in here most of them are slight sketches of what was acceptable.
lips of glass cracking as they speak

she wants to be sexy enough
she wants a slut-alter-ego
she wants words to die

she finished unbuttoning
wanted to return the tender show for them.
do it, obediently risking electric shock.

she said, “i don’t work well in crowds.”
she said, “i can’t feel.”
she said, “my heart wanted – too much.”

no applause – speedball eclipse

The Long Hair Of Death / A City Of Sin

wouldn't make it in time
blurred vision, stupor,
take me in

a clean shot followed
a little distance behind

unusual necklace

The effects of intensity recount
Fatal love
That subject described
in the documentary film

most had only limited experience.
They were shut in
two euphorias
she doesn’t know why destruction has an arousal effect

dirt medics attend the ballet
crying all the time
words engraved into the collar were 3 sounds
that can’t be repeated
See it fall
get over that edge. 
Ebony tendrils cascading
Covering faces
Pale lips
dilated iris

Finally, animalistic incoherence,
                blurred vision, stupor, anxiety and sedation
Please don't leave me.
Something with dead bodies

Something with dead bodies
Comes with the de-construction noise
Slurs and shadows
Nice and slow

Tears seep out from white demi-masks
All fetish all the time

In gilt rooms the women stare blankly
Barely covered bodies
Barely shielded eyes
Waiting for a reaction

The mirrors scream eloquently chanting secrets
Of a love and a life in whirlpools
Negative air spun on tongues

Silken cocoons forming spun by moths on the verge of paralysis
It’s nice isn’t it
Certain scenes of bitter songstresses chanting
In monotone

Downing drinks of alcohol
Sucking black thoughts
Tart for their pleasure
As they lie back and breathe shallowly
Describing creatures of silent forms
In dwellings of various descriptions,
They change 
They talk
They point at feelings unknown

No comments:

Post a Comment