Younisos / Writer

Posts tagged “corpse

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

 


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 /

 


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.

 

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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