Meet: Johnny Pulp and the Lemonheads

Her ghoul Even the bones were eaten. Down by the hole was a stench of camel and crow. Her leg was by the pool. Dawn was less rapture more decisive essence. This is what you meant by the cruelty of birth. I’d have stayed but everyone was jumpy and there was a livid white line we all pretended we hadn’t seen. Sometimes hunters reverse into their traps. What meaning did you actually want? By the window last night I ordered the shutters closed. The heat swarmed in like lizards and we drank just to avoid the a priori. It never works. Catch your flies in the hunter nets. They buzz like maniacs but drown out the outside edges and the worsering sounds. Your bitch off the main square faces east. Mine looks south. Directions don’t seem to matter anymore. Do you still have aspirations? Last night one more was taken. He decided to take an early evening stroll even though he was given firm instructions. The body can only be so many scars before it’s something else. Same with the mind. He was an evil cunt. Last year the tower was completed and the gateway mythologised. I stopped prayers years ago. How about you? Should we have come to an agreement, put it in writing, sealed it in blood, all that jazz? I am particular. You called me a madman though your eyes chewed on through perceived limits. No one does so much and stays complete. Yet here we are, you with your lame excuse and me in 40 degrees of sweat and a liver full of rotten years. What machine did you think would do? This is not an algorithm, nor a swift memo distributing abstracts across the desert. The shadow of the beast is as perverse as the beast. You last wrote a month ago. You asked for almonds, cyanide, a cut-throat, lambrusco bottles, your wallet returned. Fuck all that. No good can come of any of it. What you lose is a sense of finality and thus any sense of being anywhere. Beetles have legs like chords played backwards. What I remember best was the white rum and you frantic on the sand knowing these rough beasts were once friends. This palace has an insane root. The hot sand will reach the rooftops soon. The topmost window empties to the horizon and infinity’s ghoul. I wave to the longest silence.