by: Joshua Barton
splinters of ice cold frozen piercings, bleeding gums and white sores. the black spores of American discontent are spreading through a humid summer breeze. vacant rooms, gray ash trays and red skeletons crumble into the Mississippi. milky streams on open mouths begging to be fed. tears seep from our eyes like poppy sap. a mist of memory and molecules. man has his hell on earth. his kingdom too. ignorant masses clamor for food and water. their lips are cracked and their throats squeal thirsty for air. elections are stolen and all we can do is change the channel. Karzai’s brothers are slinging white mud across the borders while the junkies back home salivate in anticipation.
A pair of mantis attach themselves to the wire screen door. The male mounts himself on top of the female’s yellow-green back. They’re frozen silent and don’t seem to notice my presence in the midst of their courtship. I take to my own love ritual and scroll through some digital streaming porn. I sit back and watch rough gods stroking their cocks, spitting into open rectums, white seed and sore tits as I cum across my chest. I wipe off and begin to watch cable television. A story on FOX News about a man found hanging from a tree in Kentucky. The word FED etched into his chest. I walk back to the sliding glass door and watch the bugs finish fucking, but I’m too late. She’s already spitting out her lover’s head.
This hollow promise. This glorious decree of democracy is just another pile of guts on the highway: A stain of blood and fur. Flies swarm around black garbage bags on a lonely country road ditch. The entrails of a dead animal spill out into the light of a July morning as if roadside prophets had left them as an offering to the gods. A nation is bleeding. A tribe is lost in the wilderness. Brother is crying and his hands are wet, stained red, his flesh before him, frozen and cold on the ground with dead eyes staring into space.
Raw, vicious, violent children of evolutionary survival are playin’ in the yard. It’s okay. We jus’ call ‘em POLITICS. Cold blood and black eyes open as the toads gobble wet rats in sour sewers and pools of nuclear shit. The little bastards chase after the frogs with knifes, steel saws and sinister smiles. The amphibian fat fucks try to hop away only to find themselves caught in the grasp of tiny sociopathic fingers. A chorus of mangled RIBBITS echoes down sewer tunnels. Faggots eating faggots: Sorry girls, all we gots left is this pot of IGNANT. Wanna bite? Fucking reptile: Ugliest little hypocrite in town whinin bout how she’s the savior of these faggots nestin on the river soakin up poison cum and yellow piss in leather chokers, soiled jock straps, wet rosebuds, red bottom heels.
Stock prices soar on the starvation of Third World Imaginations and the faggots out here in Gomorrah still trying to find out what true love is all about. Panels of Marxists and Communists argue on how to dismantle the global crisis. The panelist from India pleads for mass mobilization against the global regime while the black caucus from Greece pushes for riots in the streets: FUCK AUSTERITY!!! The Brits recite facts, statistics and histories of labor struggles yet when it comes to a solution all they can say is ‘FUCK CAMERON!!’ Our South American representatives couldn’t make it today, seems they’re actually doing something, and of course, the American revolutionaries have skipped out on this session to smoke dope behind the alley dumpsters.
A Beast from the sea roams tides searching for the next civilization to choke and drown in oil polluted waters. FREEDOM is just another word to sell while a cop rots dead in the street. Congregations pray to God for deliverance and actively attempt to bring on The Rapture through coordinated street bombs, abortionist assassinations and Starbuck lattes contaminated with Swine Flu. Guess God’s too busy on his iPhone to care…got himself a nice piece of country ass to fuck before going back to work at Manifest Destiny…see ya’ll cunts when the roll is called up yonder! The Beast lumbers on shore and begins to snatch screaming sun bathing faggots with its black tentacles….severed limbs, heads and genitals scatter the blood soaked beach as the monstrosity chews like a cow on human cud….The Beast emits an abominable series of crackling invertebrate chirps from its belly that hypnotize the surviving beachgoers with a telepathic spell….the poor souls think they’re being lifted into momma’s lap and kissed on the cheek as the monster rapes their assholes with a blue, veined bulbus glandis tongue and rips apart their tanned torsos with her black, serrated mandibles. The Beast transmits a lullaby of soul music to her prey: lonely lonely lonely is the night/ wantin him to hold me tight/ deep shadows / surround me/ oh yess oh yess they do. / nothin but heartache / nothin but pain/ when i look out my window/ all i see is rain rain rain.
The sound of beating wings pulsates in my mind as I stand crooked in my six-inch pumps, nipples hard, cock swollen and pupils dilated with the weight of lover’s remorse on my back. Dark spots on my skin that won’t fade away. Bitch bottoms of Babylon squeeze their man breasts as bears titty fuck them behind closed doors. Faggot boys practice school yard, recess blow jobs on thick bananas. More pillow biters out there in God’s country soiling Egyptian cotton with teenage cum stains. More dreams in Babylon. More HIV infections in Kansas City. More quiet suicides in Suburbia. A gay club in no-where Amurica breeds desperation while another dead drag queen gets buried in Gucci…boyhood orgies beneath black lit temples…beautiful ejaculations drip from faggot lips and the boys and the drugs dance inside a disco heaven.
Acid Sissy dances round on the rust shag carpet in his momma’s turquoise sun skirt twirling twirling twirling in a midget cyclone of pussy fever, sissy mania, wild womanhood. Polarized vision and speed saturated neurons flash inside the Acid Sissy’s rainbow nightmares. The child dreams of orgies of brown boys rimming one another’s purple asterisks on wine stained carpets…backwoods H.S. gang bangs on the seat of some muddy ATV….the boys takin their turns fuckin and cumin in all the baby faggot’s orifices….queer bait children sucking off white daddies in the shed out back. A voice growls at Acid Sissy: ‘You want this daddy nut?!’
Acid Sissy wakes up on his back looking up at the walls around him. A married trick’s child’s pictures are hanging above him and the boy’s name appears in block letters above the photo frames: T.R.E.Y.V.O.N. Toys spill out of chests and boxes. A Mickey Mouse cap sits on a shelved desk stuffed with picture books. The grey light of a wet autumn afternoon flows through the window blinds. The father fucks him with his eyes closed.
The man thrusts inside Acid Sissy and makes a soft whimper. He’s about to cum.
Having sex in a married man’s son’s playroom officially becomes a new low. Before entering the room, Acid Sissy had walked down a short hallway and passed large, framed family portraits. The doting wife in each. Her smile appeared so innocent, naive, pure as if she’s telling you that she’s only been fucked by one man her entire life. Daddy fills the condom and pulls out the faggot’s ass.
Acid Sissy sits up and look at him. He’s sensitive to the touch. His breath heaves.
“That was amazing,” the man says.
The ceiling spins and poppy blossoms sway with the wind.
Joshua Barton is a writer and journalist experiencing queer life in St.Louis.