Peter Marra ~ (The Origin of the World) Side Effects Included


in fading print
populated by rabid wives looking for trouble
as hemlines inflamed the wall’s shadows
a silhouette twisted
bisected shadows
just darkness

legs burning in a
vacant silhouette rapture

newspapers in New Orleans announced
the birth of mysterious cultural practices
as the feminine skin vibrated while turning wet
mouth spread wide
no sound
stealing glances out the cracked window
flights of delusions
the soft sound of wings burning
as ropes were being tied

i crouched in the hallway corner
picking at cuticles shaky
breathing deeply
beneath the swatches of dressmaker’s cloth

in the corner
of my mouth lay the remains of time
diagonal opposite
remnants of a smell just a hint

lying in their basement level
a uniformed physician reported
mysterious ailments as
she crushed the machine with her
bare feet and cursed the approaching figures

oral traditions suggested we drink
as the recording ended

a uniformed physician reported
mysterious ailments as
they danced trembling in Saint Louis Cemetery #1
late Saturday into a cage as early Sunday groaned open

tobacco stained eyes looked at me and touched
my flesh while weeping
dried up information swimming
and floating to the bottom of the ocean floor
TV generates telecoms from a fetish material
the skin’s influence on the mating habits
of the love and terror cult in Life Magazine
pleasure giving was now absent

just a slight taste weak memory dripping down
sparkling nails in a gold tone around her neck were
prevalent in the photos sent from the adult world
lovely full page color
the scars of moonlit trees rooted up by the
storm of vice resulting in inflammation

the wounds have replaced the ritual
the chemicals were offered by the cameras
as they christened a corona condition

caught in the act

inside a concerto is playing
so slowly so slowly
outside red fluid drips so slowly so slowly
inside white fluid streams down the shadows
her deep purple areolæ vibrated with static electricity as
she fell back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling
the plaster formed faces that she counted

so slowly so slowly


Peter Marra is a native New Yorker, currently domiciled in Queens. Read more of Peter’s nsfw poetry in DM 105 ~ Audela, now open @

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