stalker, you are with

the sheep skull and
frilly white shorts
compliant to a river breadth

liquid over falls
your steps and waters
fool our pace

this body outer shell is
always walking
vomit in fantasy

now share the viscosity
of glass drinks
and toast

the unspeakable
skin is containing colour
we have seen something so

silent our eyes close close
crowded in on self
traces that leave skin for

the sake of words in order
rocks swallowed gulp water
became river with directions

pace after step after accept
that fragile rape hands
conceal the man

look as the sound

walks back into density and hundreds of only faces.
city standing building faces. distaste is open and
ready to be framed. Wait a moment, who are you to wear
me? Now stand in front. All are sexless when in love.
Hang up with the crossings. Smile, carry on regardless
you little pretty thing you wink and think perfect as.
As cement yes. he is not a pole dancer and we prefer
manual orgasms. choosing entangles lives with
distasteful greyed faces, unsigned and written between
spaces. body traces watch as they fade

Blank the in

died I last at until eyes open wide .with water under
Swam .I bathe the In .turn my replied I ,line overused
An .inside from heart my massage and Elbow .fist-fuck
me to the Up .hide orgasms where places the out Clean
:this heard I .ask to left Nothing .kisses less self
less my tongue my Language .lost it ,down it wrote ,it
lost .sex Having

divine become ,time in ,space in travel To .Wanted
.Dislocated .felt I bed In .the in, the side ,the out
thought slide thin the lost Slice .feel like flesh
ultra rubber expensive most the blend exclusive An
.breasts my offered I .special it felt I but unusual
Not .watched man A

.up woke laughter salted slaughter tasted water wasted
daughter taste of I .happiness of moments brief in
emotion: thought I .sex changing Imagined .by will my
Sent .a great massacre has been There .completely a me
made complete me made I thinking by just beginning the


My curves around your body
stand permanent

Corpses watch
on the periphery of our lives

Memories are broken
by words

The absence
of touch is ghost

I can't forget
the taste of your cunt

There is no stabbing the night

       Hannah Silva 2007