Writing

Writing is abject… it’s jerking off with your own lymph, stinking viscera, fatty gall … curdled petrified guts winding along cracked ribs, sneaking into the ass … intimate verbal butchery ending in rectal trip, and all the split carcass along the vertebrae and the gaping entrails under the sun finally shredded in fresh tremor on December’s shivering cobblestones.

 

Self-portrait by Younisos

 

 

the toe

Getting familiar with my own thin corpse… cadaverous flux beating along the writing process… kissing the goddess Rottenness in the mouth.

Anguish blooms on the dew of breath, when afternoon is nothing : sensory fullness… diaphanous blades stroking void… and my damn real guts shredded by nothing… atrocious plenitude of flowing nothingness. Cold tits  on the horizon.

 — When horror is off, you still swallow the horror of breathing.

These whining cats under my window in the warm night… like some doomed babies in a bad zombie movie…

I brought my rotten big toe to the doctor.  He said :  « They say you’re a cut-up writer…isn’t it ? … so… go on… cut off your damn toe !… antibiotics don’t work on writer’s flesh… your damn dismembered mind is infecting the air… go screw yourself with your meaty writing… cut off your fucking toe and put it down in your poetic carnage… »

Flux oozing its flat warm scum through doomed big toe while I embrace the cadaverous edges of my bones, savouring the ongoing plasmatic decay.

My body is getting bony, so bony… Few flesh left…

My writing comes up from the bone marrow, bled… dried up soon…  That would be the price to pay for being a  carnal  poet…  skeletal ?…

Self-portrait by Younisos

 

 

 

Silence

Image

Rotten flux

Words are dead pigs on the slab. I’m done. Only blank void can fill the visionary gut. Non eatable giant steaks are bloodying my digital corpse. Writing makes my brains puke the sap of inner cannibal urge. Shit and love and round flesh trickling down through the asshole of agonizing fate.
Daylight is a corpse, nothing more than a corpse.

 

Younisos

 

Sensory aphonia

bright flesh

is silence

…

— You’re a psychopath, she yelled.
— My throat is weak, I said. My esophagus pissing blood on the blank page, ignoble online cake puking digital rosaries … um … the universe is a big obscene pie —

…

Sweet slices of butt crawling in my head …

—

.

.

Younisos

 

 

Raw flux

brainless blast squeezing sharp bones crushing glowing livers / logical red foam / I doze / split azure / singing on black mire / oblong eager pig
my ode to phallic bleeding  joy

as big Bone pops in heavens

raping cosmogonist tits disconnecting your narcissistic circuits / rotting ego in juicy butt radiating steel dripping creamy dreams of infinitesimal anus cleaving golden skulls tearing my brain through fresh casts upon killing sweetness / drawing carmine jets / large schizoid knives
bits of howling viscera on blue skinned horizon / earwigs puking silver cockroaches / crippled throat

torn blowjobs

mind has to be shred / bursting the helpless eyes of the empirical world surging lightning curves to slash chronic nonsense and other rancid hopes cranking strings of guts over scarlet rivers
quartered satin thighs / wild pubic dreams kill stripping moon and make it spit its stillborn milk / legs slipping / fresh cracked ass

unbridled fury of  …  large eggs  /  winged sap blank slots and plump cherries while foul cerulean sky pours its atrocious light on hungry oranges

fluffy rectums purring at the bottom of other creamy roundness and
heady saliva of

schizo ginger girl

 

Younisos

Viscera in plastic bag

 

pancreatic cancer rings once
just say bye bye and rot in peace /

anal-galactic intercourse doesn’t wait /

one more time they crucified Dionysus in Wall Street and they stuffed his eyeballs with semiconductors /

the blue-eyed butcher refreshes his cock in skimed milk but I’m expecting more beheaded dolls on the run /

blood
dropping
between the lines
how can I clean up all that blood
in
my
bed /

 

Bony madness

a radical blade extends its iced platinum
on sawn skulls —
huge eggs
crimped marrow
mad cartilages
erect bone breaking up heavens

flabbergasted guts
puke their meaty screams
on lymphatic aphonia —
flat ribs
blown gelatin
stillborn green sky
crippled fractal twisted smash

and my frightened glands
fall apart
in ionic cracklings
slicing the synaptic song
of dismembered aesthetics —

cold breast
sidereal gristle
bony phallic killing

slashed immanence

 

Obscenity

Image

Connected corpse

Connection is rotting,
pouring its pixeled fever into the bowels of global death.

Breath is decaying
— Google is puking the void
of its dark cum.

Binary putrefaction
leads the blank becoming
of
beheaded
urge.

Tits and butt will take you online
to the algorithm
of your own corpse.

 

by Younisos

Meat, void, and carnage

 

horror — is nothing — my bowels per se — had razors at lunch — horror — nothing — blank sun — iced virtual fuck — my liver — frozen — snatched breath — squeezed red cells — blowing off the dark sap of my plasmatic silence

silence

 

Self-portrait by Younisos

 

Sensorial horror

 

The obvious is atrocious.
—
Horror is life itself
flowing,
daylight, breath,
warm knives in the sluggish night.

… … …

Gutted
gutted silence.

 

Drawing by Younisos

The tongue of death

disemboweled bodies are dripping
dripping
through mutant interfaces of purplish syntactic vomit —

blown viscera grumbling the bright song of beheaded breath — sliced carotids puking red asemic phonemes — lonely corpse rotting in a quiet forgotten flat — sparkling liver hanged among cerulean orgies
and naked obscene blades and hysterical bloody cats shredding the sky and wide fresh tongues licking the punctuation of the flux

I can die alone in silence
it’s free

 

Bowels

Bowels stretched on the verb — bowels cut up for the sake of the blank enlightened cadaver of wailing prose — my sweet liver, raped in the hardened crypts of deep east…

Bowels, torn, sheared in blind deaf images… only viscera could flow in scarlet silence — breath perpetuates the agony that pierces the pancreas of the flux — cancer and lust are sodomizing each other deep in dawn around the Wi-Fi substratum of death.

 

 

Younisos

Horror

We cling to writing… trying not to end up in such naked misery… but misery catches up with you, and horror too.
Suddenly, poetry is over. It goes away to squirt elsewhere. The day is naked. Raw anxiety. Horror flows free, straight. Daylight splatters my face and I die by breathing.
For horror is life itself, flowing…
Warm blade in the throat of the night.

 

Younisos
photographed by Romain Carreau

Digital putrefaction

Images are dripping…
Cancer is coming, soon…
Cyber-mushrooms puke their mad fuchsia sap in the ears of crippled desire.
— Sophisticated civilization disgorges the most rotten meats.
I have no smartphone. Death is coming, baby…
Digital infection invades the flux, huge abomination… putrescent, crawling larvae, chips and microchips swarming in pus.
Where is my cock ?
Solar vertical forces are swallowed by slugs, worms and virtual octopuses.
Why don’t you slay me, baby ?

 

 

Self-portrait by Younisos

Digital panic

Harnessed with a steel dildo, Danaé bangs the throat of her tremulous pig who is fucking a noisy android doll with encrypted tits.

Sensual anxiety is growing around the blind digital nakedness of connected gazes.

Mutant livers invade the elevators in business towers where they arouse the anus of the future, while billions of cocks and vulvas disgorge their filthy waves of pixels, recycled into sluggish virtual coins.

Google is now sneaking into the warmness of the shit inside your guts.

It’s done.

 

Carnal algorithm

 

pixels… rotting slowly in the sky
aborted androids connected to anti-plasma networks
synapses of horror… sodomizing the stem cells of encrypted fate —
binary decay algorithm jerking off on HTML plans
valid anal code
ecstasy…
activated
along rectal vortexes…
… Mary’s butt is looking at me
…
black cockroaches announce the blind name of the toxic fetus

 

Digital self-portrait by Younisos

 

Excess

square bone gushes on the mangled edge of darkish spatters while smooth whores wail and writhe in the woods my TV died of testicular cancer shiny tits illusion sparkles around synthetic mountains through the holy sleep the big toe survived the plague and now it’s squirting words of milky wisdom and black crackling cum the square jaw has come
—
sensual anxiety puking its fuchsia gall on the final pie of sidereal panic
—
slit human spleen
drowsing in a silver bag
cold lymph shower
on the back of the three dicks beast
—
cut off my toe NOW
it’s rotten
—
obviousness
is
scarlet

The Song of the Cosmic Butcher

On my desk, lies a flayed pig.

Among cerulean fires I see quivering steaks, and sliced breasts.

— Frightful phalluses soar in the air ; streams of blood splatter the atmosphere.

In sun’s hollow a vulva glows, strange crack, stuffed with gold and bright blue.

On white bed, lies a pig’s head — Fresh lips blooming on cream and strawberry, and the taste of death.

A huge carnage erupts in my head — In my dreams I hear the ruddy laughter of eleven gutted girls — blank rage — sensory blast — when I sleep I often have my throat cut — in heavens I see slaughtered oxen and thick pale boobs full of pulp.

In moon’s hollow an anus gleams, stuffed with silver and gutted dreams.

Wide creamy hips among meringue and cherry, and pork tongue — high lactescent butts in filmy night, and spurts of lunar cum.

The moon swells and bursts, milk springs and spreads — in white sky, I see the carmine meat of sixty thousand boneless nymphs.

Through celestial darkness now appear quivering rump steaks, and sliced livers.

On my desk, lies a butchered girl.

 …

.

Meaty pixels

tits
pixeled soporific artifact
gelding the slack eye of void
—
immanence lies on butchery freshness
—
crowds of fetuses
agonising on the edges of meaty cliffs
—
shredded squishy tongues dripping beneath the crude erection of becoming
—
anal flux
vanishing in flabby whining
over ramshackle gallbladder
—

 

Synaptic rush

her nails
yelling
on the blank abyss
of my balls /

gutted foamy anguish stroking the hanged carcass of
nonsense /

ectoplasmic mushrooms
glowing through sticky brain molasses /

sensual anxiety shitting its fuchsia gall on the final cake of sidereal panic /

vital beat is raping
me

 

Younisos

 

Creamy carnage — Excerpt from the forthcoming book of Younisos

I might doze, right ? Railwaymen, brats, the sky — fuchsia bitchiness… Pissing on her thick hair and wide watery eyes. My cock cleanly cut, in the fridge. Banana spurted in the dark screaming at rectal attitude, disgorging streams of unspeakable reddened lymph, heart sap of the last laryngeal jerk. Long sausage gleaming beneath the knife. Bowel’s skin. Under the frail tangent of gutted Eros I stretch sparkling viscera along the crackling vomit of a mad alto sax. Free jazz sharpens my canines. Vaïna crawling on the lookout for poetic performances… she ended up impaled on the edge of bony glans. Ornette Coleman blessed her thigh filet sizzling on the grill. I puked two large bundles of erotic marshmallow, two milky girls sliced on the sensory block of the dying pudding. — As you like ladies, I’m always available for any ax and legs routine. Voracious. I never get enough meat for my thirsty marrow… Huge cream pies haunting the arterial roads of the day.

Cut-up on deep throat in the sky

cut !
cut it up
silent cum
sidereal throat
cerulean blowjobs
bits of howling melon
viscera on the horizon
wild murderous sausages
cruel schizophrenic rump steak
blind giant bone fucking the moon

Big pale boobs kill

 

We’re done with books. Double dish of peas and the killing  joy squirting through radioactive brains. I’m a carrion, more or less. Busty scarlet woman is the killer. Deadly bright tits destroy all rational thought (Bill just screwed the ginger boy). Sodomy is the tight blank fullness of silence. Big Bone is masterminding the next great aesthetic Butchery. Danaé will terrorise the keyboard and the verb. Her pale blinding boobs are cutting up human software. I’ll sit and let carnal light break up heavens. The writer eats the blade as he can when mad sun shows up with silver giant dildos and tiny blank skirts.

 

 

Younisos

 

Carnal flux

hordes
of flayed oxen
glowing in broken sensory flows
—
streams of beheaded redheads
pouring in the gray sluice of my torn skull
—
six hundred cold knives standing up in lunatic sheaves through the fiery dawn
—
flood of tender thighs
milky blindness around morning light
…
and my brains
unctuous atrocious brains
licking the blade of tenderness

—

The silence of the thigh

a thigh a thigh as it appears enlightened where the verb disappears into the muteness of the thigh abyss on silence and screams bloom in skin and curves through azure steaks and sliced breasts are quivering sidereal dissolution into bowels chaos of light spouting fury  meaty colour shut up forget about psychoanalysis destroy screens withdraw your eyes from the swarm  of speech be silent  I planted the fork in the thigh and blood spurted three large scarlet drops on pale flesh  three red rivulets that I savoured on the thigh with my tongue in bright flowing delight the pale obscenity of a smooth ass  brightens my intimate atrocity  in my  glowing skull  the light (suffused with crime) strips off  the ultimate meat a thigh a thigh the sensory killing sings in sharp twists and quiet night lying through placid milk

—

 

Anal azure

When a giant blade rises in the sky,
yelling at the sky :
YES ! and fuck you ! sky,

the river of desire
in silence, may vomit
its convulsed scum
its slaughtered melons
young velvety vulvas
and amputated nymphs

and monstrous anal-dildos
dreamed
in
Salò.
—

—
Quand une lame géante se lève dans le ciel,
criant à tue-ciel :
OUI ! et fuck you ! le ciel !

alors le fleuve du désir
peut, en silence, vomir
son écume convulsée
ses oranges égorgées
ses jeunes vulves
veloutées
ses naïades amputées

et ses coïts anaux
rêvés
à
Salò.

—

Extrait de CARNAGE SENSITIF de Younisos

https://www.edilivre.com/carnage-sensitif-younisos.html

—

 

 

Bony madness

a radical blade extends its iced platinum
on sawn skulls —
huge eggs
crimped marrow
mad cartilages
erect bone breaking up heavens

 —

flabbergasted guts
puke their meaty screams
on lymphatic aphonia —
flat ribs
blown gelatin
stillborn green sky
crippled fractal twisted smash

 —

and my frightened glands
fall apart
in ionic cracklings
slicing the synaptic song
of dismembered aesthetics —

 

cold breast
sidereal gristle
bony phallic killing

slashed immanence

—

Younisos

Interzone 3001

Hanging on the solar hook
of blind limpid sky,
a huge flayed ox
is crying
his thick
scarlet
tears.

 —

Eleven bikini nymphs
wiggle
under the red rain
in September.

 —

Dionysus snatches his heart
and throws it to the Maenads of the Web.

 —

A juicy redhead
shits her milk
on the slaughterhouses
of
Interzone
in 3001.

 —

The ax of Aesthetics
falls down on a nightclub
full of round skinned thighs …—

 —

In my bed,
a huge flayed ox
is lying,
crushing the tender breasts
of my slashed milky girl.—

…

…

…

Aesthetics of carnage

My belly is a voracious beast, eager to tremors ;
it pukes strings of atrocities
gulps of tremulous terror
and sensual anxiety
without any purpose —

just for the killing joy
for the sensorial massacre
and the terebrant chant
— and the scarlet hole
in the skull
of the present.
—

Younisos

Sweet sweet massacres

Blood
lights up in azure.

Earth cries her paranoid sap.

Poetry is slicing the thighs of tenderness.

Creamy naiads
refresh
the fluffy hole of anal roar.

Thus,
my phallic skull
is singing
the sensorial immanence
of
sweet milky massacres
and
burning streams of silence.

—

Younisos

Cut-up alley

guts torn along alleys darkened by howler assassins warm heart snatched gray wall agony sawn neck dazed blade rusty dull my entrails on the table sheared light drilled multiple vertical crack slow impalement walking through the cut-throat street broken ribs hoping for some headless glow cracking the cartilage of the spear yelling loud twirling blinding furious cock singing upcoming murders licking sweet thighs killer Bone gleaming biting hilarious rump steak blood mixed with fresh brains spattered on Mary’s cleavage the artist is not an ego she went home licking her own tits  that’s my skull  “the-flow-flows” could coincide with : SILENCE

—

—  —

Younisos is in the CUT UP Anthology

I’m in CUT UP!, the amazing anthology edited by A.D. Hitchin and Joe Ambrose.
My contribution, “Self Cut-Up in Tangier“, is a bloody cut-up on my own texts.

…

http://www.paraphiliamagazine.com/oneirosbooks/cut-up-2/

http://www.amazon.com/Anthology-Inspired-Cut-Up-William-Burroughs/dp/1291745920 

Younisos

Scarlet streams

streams of broken ribs
gutted fruity nymphs
meaty slanting flow
flooding gurgling
sap

…

mad sausages
whining milk
dappled mornings
creamy hole of light

— giant bone impaling the frail soft skin
of the present

—

Younisos

Younisos is in the CUT UP Anthology

I’m in CUT UP!, the amazing anthology edited by A.D. Hitchin and Joe Ambrose.
My contribution,  Self Cut-Up in Tangier,  is a bloody cut-up on my own texts.

…

http://www.paraphiliamagazine.com/oneirosbooks/cut-up-2/

…

http://www.amazon.com/Anthology-Inspired-Cut-Up-William-Burroughs/dp/1291745920  

…