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
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
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
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
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
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
Blog en français / French blog of Younisos
POÉSIE TRASH de Younisos (Book in French)
Flesh, Excess and Transgression / Carnal Experimental Poetry / Younisos 