Peter Marra ~ Calypso’s Variations (of Her Obsession with Natural Death)

once hidden deep within a vulva,
the sun screamed through its solar eclipse,
a violent birth became serene,
she was aware of the powers
as she couched him in her warm secretions and flesh
to prove her commitment, she tossed her panties into
a nuclear reactor
fired up the heat-seeking mouths
“play my game,” she whispered hoarsely, “please.”

while softly dying
while listening to bacterial moans and
the song of a Cyclops
while comatose on the ocean floor he touched
hollow light and tasted the
noise of shimmering churches

while softly dying
her face looks down on a prey:
a journey of variations of her obsessions,
trapped and beating against the cell she has constructed.
she had become tears of blood
she had become outbound on the street

“sorry, but I wasn’t familiar
with the photos.
i drew an X through each image. covering
the asses and the cunts.
burning holes of regret.
simmering. simmer.”

her dark eyes followed a stray mortal (a new meal)
on Heart Attack street as a wooden pony was set ablaze

there was a
sacrifice to the gods
no need to stay

(deeper goes deeper)

to go where bored housewife
conversations were flowing.
for her words came forth thusly “going
to get fucked.
you should die now. later i’ll collect persephone’s fluids.”
held against his will

genuine cruelty just in the gaze
she strolled in beauty and looked behind herself
(over her shoulder)
every 3 minutes at the glistening footprints of crimson

she arrived at the fence and she could go no further
she’s telling the truth
she wouldn’t lie
she won’t be leaving.

her walk in cruelty still has to occur.
kidnapped and strapped in black and white
downward water flows off the vine
set into the floor something that you think of
think of me like she is and used to be
return while she is gentle and timid
serrated by desire

she demands absolute linings of nothing
don’t do this
hard to get it
she thinks about it too intensely
too instantly of herself

a worthy agonized shriek blended with the light
woven into a safe haven of underground lovers
swung forward a lot harder

defense attorneys helped to convict another man.
she was up on the stage and she would cause more
pressure for an additional $500. she pushed him down.

worked the wet straps
her victim’s screams started
the women screamed in delight 7 times in the first hour
7 times in the first hour the tears were collected and brought
outside to be thrown onto the pavement

sacred love
sacred lust
scared eyes
a fractured mind

“lie down quietly,” she instructed,

“let it pass through
and out,
collect the feelings and spin
them towards
the billboards.

pass quietly into the next phase. perversity is its own reward
but sometimes it provides salvation.”

they took her sultry voice
they unhooked him, it was a
first time, laughing.
a lover drooled as she walked (in lost
times) she stepped into a new
corset drawn and embalmed
tight around muscles

down the walls the eyes
collapse the motion can’t stop
dangled in the atmospheres

the FBI strapped her in
going back and forth again
she swung forward and she managed
to speak and trembled slightly
as she realized that she already owned him.

to go where bored housewife
conversations were flowing.

1 medical examiner tallied the count of new blood spatters discovered
when the rocks were turned over. he pushed results into degenerate machines and
a telephone electrically shocked various body parts. vacant brain. watching looped images. under eyes. amazed at how vacant its life had become. stretched wide in liquid. tingling fists pummeled in sounds black and blue.

the medical examiner opened entrances so that they may be nailed shut. your own land unharmed in nowhere. nothing. blindfold still on. that timing was perfect. unfortunately rooms lie. occasionally fallen souls administer pain sequentially and revel in their actions.

anesthetized again under wooden legs cranked to maximum perfection. the police officer will traverse heartbeats. various body parts of a mental patient. torn. spoken.

1 medical examiner tallied the count of new blood spatters discovered
when the rocks were turned over and he pushed results into degenerate machines

high pain threshold. a scythe for a smile (that was transparent in the early fog) that she wore around her shoulders became the totem for her actions. she was quite
disgusted with herself since she had failed one more time.

there was no life left in front of her. her prey had defeated her by dying.
she sat down gently on a bench in the park so she could rest her limbs; bent
her neck back slightly so she could view what was above. whistled low
in monotone. a pale droplet was on her cheek.

stop what’s in motion. can’t stop what’s happened multiple times.
she took turns and she started to describe pornographic visions under
the feet of god. feet following them on the high shot. naked she rushed into a night.
she finally killed. she admitted that the time had perhaps come to get detached.
a black dog.


Read more of Peter’s work in
Open 24 / 7 / 365

bouquinistes 17


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