Room 18: Golden Ratios of a Flying Sex Women

Room 18: Golden Ratios of a Flying Sex Women

Poetry

Peter Marra

she accepted a truth:
she was a peeping tom.
then she watched the window across the
airshaft

 

she pulsated while eating her sexual desire
between the probes of her mental state

 

she swirled the fluid in a delicate goblet
a mixture of bitter sweat and isomers of fragrant urine
with a touch of
tart membranes

 

swished it around her mouth
bathed her bleeding gums
then gulped
burn
burn
gagged briefly. voluntary agent.

 

the window
grew larger as she backed away
she began to stroke. opened the noise
and walked into an answer

 

she began to stroke. opened the image
and walked into a reason

 

instructions were absent from the text.
she was trying to set up the head.
sexual desire. between them. to probe downwards.

 

she spied on me
and she spied on me
and she always will
and I’m glad

 

poses were going to happen
door closed
penetration
sex-bombing

 

she shook and began to speak of time
a plastic minute, think that’s too long?

 

her filthy mouth offered a humorous alternative
a half-life in this position

 

she said (the only transcript):

 

“coma 1. i was in him deep, almost up to my forearm.
That’s what he wanted. all sweaty.
he was all sweaty and clammy. i think i did something wrong,
i felt something give way. soft pop. i pulled out and left him there on the floor as a quivering pain pleasured jelly. i outlined his body with tiny black stones to mark the event.

 

tasty glistening cock.

 

clock tweaked faster. i fell into a deep sleep.”

 

“roundabout rooms—one starts
then ends in another. automobiles are always crashing
outside i can hear them through the stained glass. eyes
of the saints are teary moist now.

 

gas oil smell. burnt steel. peeled plastic and paint
as the shapely sun-tanned matrons from Midwest America
cradle assault rifles between their legs
massaging their cunts, tattooing themselves
in red, white and blue under their cross.”

 

fully exposing the taste of salt and skin.

 

From Vanished Faces (a performance of occult infections)

 

 

Bio:Peter Marra’s writings explore alienation, addiction, the misuse of love, the curse of secrets, the pain of victimization and the impact of multi-obsessions sexual and otherwise. He is in love with the Three Mothers that sprung from the hallucinations of Suspiria de Profundis by Thomas de Quincey. He has been scarred by his past quests into the pits of Sin & Flesh in NYC’s East Village and Pre-Disney Times Square and he has been manipulated by trash culture and fine art. The bastard child of the films of Roger Corman and Russ Meyer, Peter has had over 300 poems published either in print or online in over 25 journals.

Originally from Gravesend Brooklyn, he lived in the East Village, New York from 1979 to 1993 at the height of the punk – no wave music – cultural rebellion.  His published works include approximate lovers (downtown materialaktion) (Bone Orchard Press), Peep-O-Rama: Sins of the Go-Go Girls (Hammer & Anvil Books available through Amazon and Vanished Faces (a performance of occult infections) published by Writing Knights Press available through Amazon.

 

Author’s website: www.angelferox.com

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