Younisos / Writer

Carnal Flux

Younisos, writer

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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.

 

kr

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 ?…

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Self-portrait by Younisos

 

 

 

Image

Silence

hhhhhhhh

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.

 

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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 …
.
.
000 wordprwss

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

 

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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 /