/lit/ - Literature

'Foreplay- Star of the East'


•••North-I was walking through the shore one day wondering what I
could look for in the midst of day, when the horizon called me
again and it began talking to me in many voices without consideration.
•••It told me stories of various sizes that could go around my body lice
and other ticks might tell me more about the future if I listened to the
sea when it stopped talking to me.But only then did I understand what it meant.
•••I knew I couldn’t listen to it for long because they would lie to me. Always and
always and always, they would lie to me about the future. As I have no prescience,
my children are overseen. Sometimes they tell me stories of then sun but it can
never get me going. I am made out of alabaster after all. But that’s why I decided
to come here in the first place. To share some of it so I might fare well after I’m done.
•••But I could not fathom being alone too long. That’s why I was overseen in the first place.

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Ordering towers of cancer grow a the bottom of my empire-boat,
I am a freighter made or mirrors, against reflection I see the tumour, I am the tumour,
Spreading, I eat the brow, the mast-head made of my mother’s guts,
God that I am the shallow rains of cancer-veins shall watch me eat the darkpain,

Why has my second hand foreskin the adoration of whales the liquid lungs?
By the time my body stops growing paint of pints of baleful lymphs,
I will be made of gangrenous cancer that shall inherit the sea,
Where my people the Demiurges shall chant the ballad of pains,

A tumour’s on my mind again but not a single soul may recognise the torment that I marry on,
My backless bones of children homes violated the chains of longing distant bridges,
On horizons chairs I see the ships and want to cut the feet that gnaw ripping at my spine,
While perturbed I cannot fathom calling along shores, I hear mother calling but she had no vocal cords,

Hear me say, I, an umbilical cord in the sea, an endless torment carries me,
Through the pus of spermaceti whales I see my lord; I hear him yet the chantless gore,
Damned, as my arrival is, I can only feel the scent of piss made by my crew,
Much and behold, bellow at the bells inside their livers as they push through carrying my children.

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