and the world drains of color
and the food upon my tongue turns to ash.
I am become a voice crying in the wilderness:
alone, alone.
Saturday, December 26, 2015
Sunday, December 20, 2015
26/52: demon bicycle for two
So this begins with me standing in the street naked, as many dreams of humiliation do.
My demon produces a rotary saw of cartoon proportions, and when she flicks the on switch, it howls with heavy metal guitar riffs and the crying of unmet desire. Sparks fly. And of course no one notices as they go about their business, making their way to the doctor's office or going to the DMV. They jostle me sometimes since they are texting while they walk, but they do not notice that I am naked, or that my demon is lowering the saw to place it between my legs.
She begins to cut me starting at my penis. She cuts it perfectly in half, shrunken as it is in terror, bisecting the urethra, setting a testicle to each side. She then proceeds into my bladder and my anus, my pelvic girdle gives the saw a moment of resistance, then up through my intestines (which somehow choose not to spill forth like squirming worms, but instead choose sides and remain still), my stomach, and then my liver to one side and my pancreas to the other. Then it's on to my sternum, and the grinding of metal on bone until she reaches my neck and there is a soft relief and she whispers, "almost done!" but then she is cutting through my jaw and it's all bone and smoke as the vibrations come on through my nasal cavity and my brain.
I cannot speak or move as she does this. She moves with the pace and precision of the Inquisition. Flame around her all the while, or is it blood, I never can tell. But it is not my blood - I do not bleed. I am simply sawed in half like un-bleeding fire wood.
I stand there, split. I can see a bit of light shining through where once peripheral vision showed the bridge of my nose.
She steps back, cocks her head and admires her work. Then she turns the saw on herself, going from head to crotch in one smooth movement.
"There," her separated lip halves say, "now we are ready." Somehow the two halves of her move smoothly despite having only one leg and she pries the halves of me apart, one half to each of her halves. She separates me neatly, and joins a matching half of her to a half of me, so that we are man-demon, and demon-man.
I, both halves of me, draw in a breath to our one lung each as our conscientiousness merges with the demon's. I strangely have triscopic view - each of my halves see through the combined demon-man, man-demon's eyes, as well as some assembled mash up of my own eyes, though they are separated by space in a way they are not meant to be. I retain my whole, but share now with another - another who happens to be a demon.
I have no control over either half of my body. I am entirely dominated by the demon - even half a demon is more powerful than a whole mortal soul, and I have only half a mortal soul in each half, if that makes any sense, which of course it does, because this is a dream.
My right half, coupled with the left half of my demon stands with fists on hips, flame rising from one half, blood dripping over the joint, while the other half walks with awkward gate to fetch a bicycle built for two.
Soon enough we are pedaling down Main Street, naked and on fire, and no one looks up from their phones.
I am singing, an I that is half demon and half me, split on two seats for a bicycle built for two:
We ride on and wave and smile to the people we pass by, singing our song. No one notices we are naked and on fire.
We make the loop around town, peeking in the window of the pet shop at the puppies - who do, by the way - notice that we are naked and on fire and shit themselves through the grates below their puppy feet.
When we are done, she reassembles me with a large bottle of super glue.
"What fun!" she cries, as she claps her hands. And then she is gone and I am standing at the corner of Main and Court, and suddenly everyone around me does notice I am naked.
That is how it ends.
audio: https://soundcloud.com/mbonica/demon-bicycle-for-two
My demon produces a rotary saw of cartoon proportions, and when she flicks the on switch, it howls with heavy metal guitar riffs and the crying of unmet desire. Sparks fly. And of course no one notices as they go about their business, making their way to the doctor's office or going to the DMV. They jostle me sometimes since they are texting while they walk, but they do not notice that I am naked, or that my demon is lowering the saw to place it between my legs.
She begins to cut me starting at my penis. She cuts it perfectly in half, shrunken as it is in terror, bisecting the urethra, setting a testicle to each side. She then proceeds into my bladder and my anus, my pelvic girdle gives the saw a moment of resistance, then up through my intestines (which somehow choose not to spill forth like squirming worms, but instead choose sides and remain still), my stomach, and then my liver to one side and my pancreas to the other. Then it's on to my sternum, and the grinding of metal on bone until she reaches my neck and there is a soft relief and she whispers, "almost done!" but then she is cutting through my jaw and it's all bone and smoke as the vibrations come on through my nasal cavity and my brain.
I cannot speak or move as she does this. She moves with the pace and precision of the Inquisition. Flame around her all the while, or is it blood, I never can tell. But it is not my blood - I do not bleed. I am simply sawed in half like un-bleeding fire wood.
I stand there, split. I can see a bit of light shining through where once peripheral vision showed the bridge of my nose.
She steps back, cocks her head and admires her work. Then she turns the saw on herself, going from head to crotch in one smooth movement.
"There," her separated lip halves say, "now we are ready." Somehow the two halves of her move smoothly despite having only one leg and she pries the halves of me apart, one half to each of her halves. She separates me neatly, and joins a matching half of her to a half of me, so that we are man-demon, and demon-man.
I, both halves of me, draw in a breath to our one lung each as our conscientiousness merges with the demon's. I strangely have triscopic view - each of my halves see through the combined demon-man, man-demon's eyes, as well as some assembled mash up of my own eyes, though they are separated by space in a way they are not meant to be. I retain my whole, but share now with another - another who happens to be a demon.
I have no control over either half of my body. I am entirely dominated by the demon - even half a demon is more powerful than a whole mortal soul, and I have only half a mortal soul in each half, if that makes any sense, which of course it does, because this is a dream.
My right half, coupled with the left half of my demon stands with fists on hips, flame rising from one half, blood dripping over the joint, while the other half walks with awkward gate to fetch a bicycle built for two.
Soon enough we are pedaling down Main Street, naked and on fire, and no one looks up from their phones.
I am singing, an I that is half demon and half me, split on two seats for a bicycle built for two:
I’m half crazy over the love of youMy eyes roll because being joined to a creature of fire and blood after having been sawed in half is a thing of excruciating pain. But it is also a delicious lick of immortality. I am at once both a body sawed in half and an immortal being of power beyond any human imagination. The human half screams as nerves continue to be burned and blooded and burned again, but at once relishes the infinite reach and the limitless morality that has been lain over.
It won’t be a stylish marriage
I can’t afford a carriage
But you’ll look sweet
Upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two
We ride on and wave and smile to the people we pass by, singing our song. No one notices we are naked and on fire.
We make the loop around town, peeking in the window of the pet shop at the puppies - who do, by the way - notice that we are naked and on fire and shit themselves through the grates below their puppy feet.
When we are done, she reassembles me with a large bottle of super glue.
"What fun!" she cries, as she claps her hands. And then she is gone and I am standing at the corner of Main and Court, and suddenly everyone around me does notice I am naked.
That is how it ends.
audio: https://soundcloud.com/mbonica/demon-bicycle-for-two
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
25/52: harvest
thinking of the prisoner
who had reconciled himself to a life in Angola
we can reconcile ourselves to anything -
adapt to it
and make it ours.
he had no children.
no one to remember him.
he learned to paint -
he wanted to make art
and give it to people who would
take it away with them.
away from Angola.
to living rooms with big screen TVs
and ottomans.
who had reconciled himself to a life in Angola
we can reconcile ourselves to anything -
adapt to it
and make it ours.
he had no children.
no one to remember him.
he learned to paint -
he wanted to make art
and give it to people who would
take it away with them.
away from Angola.
to living rooms with big screen TVs
and ottomans.
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