pedophile mary

your analysis of january has made me wonder about the existence of my ambition. all morning, i sat by my coffee table and smelled the rays of sunshine streaming past the carousel, the aroused magnolias. the piccolo players on cloud boats. how erotic, they fingered. and salivated. profusely. so endearingly. i hugged the clouds. feeling them. licking them. folding them in to the cusp of my carnallity. you know bubble cheese, i want to pinch the precipice of your dandelion cheeks. and henna your brain with the poetry of peacocks. and tape on your groin, a ribbon of lips. so that you may kiss your groin, in tenderness and bemuse. and caress your skin. your leather board tapestry of death and deed. reading war. and peace. and the japanese bliss of the otiose war. on your opium leaf, you sat and sang. bellowbee bellowbee, can we try vanilla?

you know, valkyrie. your handmaiden-ness and transience -make me wonder. make me sad. make me scream behind your vagina wafers. make me wonder, were i the one with breasts and fish, could i trickle and trail in the spiral of the father-dom? comb my beard and scream and cry. with a throbbing mind and a failing ego. you incarcerate the flesh of lips. brand them with paraffin from a quarter century at most. and then you sit by my side. and say to me. you are and will be. a throwaway piece. used around. never had. never given. this is your destiny. the people-pleaser. the role-player. the demi-quartet of family existence. the could-be possibility but always knew. there was the duo trio quartet of the violinist and the carer. sometime, bellowbee, abort your love and set free into the world of the cold careening butterflies. flutter about in your incongruency. you never fit -you fucking faggot. you never fit -you over-brewed whore. you never fit -because you are old, because you are blue, and your veins were mine. and we fought and ignored. for a long long time. and you ran to the statuette of your virgin soul. your mary of god. and you prayed and prayed. and then you said, in words and sweat -you saw jesus in me. i was your god. in an investiture of thoughts and prayers. rosary in one hand. and a letter in the other. i was ten. what was i to think? you pedophile. i wished you dead. and now i want to see. where you are. what you do. your double-life with your husband wife. the pedophile agape.