Dedicated to the strange balm administered by John Wilmot and Charles Baudelaire
Explicit Content
Stinks in my skull, makes snakes out of misery
That slither and circle, and suck me along
To a seat in the cinema where I sit and look on.
The curtain is drawn,
The lights go down
A hush of expectation
And there! On the screen,
You’re fucking in that flat
—Fucking in that flat—
You got especially for the act.
First me, now him,
(You can fuck, that’s a fact)
Such tact, such class,
His pig-cock on your arse.
A dirty old scene,
In a dirty old cinema:
Stench of sex
Stench of sweat
Stench of cunts and vinegar.
For thirty sleepless nights I sit on this seat,
Thirty nights in the ciné du paradis…
No calls, no messages,
No pity, no empathy,
Your fun and his come
You throw in my face;
You’re merciless, ruthless,
Faceless, tasteless,
But I’ll sit here waiting
For some sign, some message,
Yes, I’ll sit here waiting,
Waiting and hoping,
Whilst you curl into his arms
And purr like a cat.
It’s day. So daydream!
No danger I’ll meet her.
I can walk the streets safe
Since you fly him to Ibiza.
Hands that held mine, so easily hold his,
Then back to Barcelona
Back to that flat
—Back to that flat—
You got especially for the act.
Nightmares like vapours
Seeping from manholes,
Manholes and fuckholes,
Tadpoles and arseholes,
You sniff him, you suck him.
I say no! no! please!
You say “si! si! si!”
In the ciné du paradis…
You were my girl.
The one I liked most.
Like sunburst through clouds,
I was blinded, engrossed.
Such light, such beauty,
Such shyness, so lovely,
I could not look.
I was lost, lost.
No! Not now! You’re there on the screen!
You’re winking at me,
But gasping for him,
Your sex is my wound
Where my blood and his come,
Dribbles and glints down
Your leg, your bum.
It’s over, he’s done.
He’s had his free fun.
Cheap smash and grab,
Quick hit and run.
Agony. Agony.
Endless agony.
Endless nights, endless scenes,
Endless without end,
Endless, not ending,
Not ending, not ever.
Oh, my sweet girl! The one I liked most!
Oh, my sweet girl, now that it’s lost,
What price? What cost?
What have we lost?
Lost and for what?
What? What?
J’aime si tendrement le désert et la mer;
Que je ris dans les deuils et pleure dans les fêtes,
Et trouve un goût suave au vin le plus amer;
Take a seat.
Watch the show.
Rub the wound
And watch it grow:
Tits and cocks and cunts and come,
Snakes and frogs and froth and scum.
A witches cauldron in the ciné du paradis:
A girl for the auction. Take a seat. Watch it with me.
(Don’t turn away now! Watch! Don’t hide!)
There on the butcher’s counter white,
Pink and willing, primed and wet,
His slippery pig-cock all bent and set,
Comes-a-slithering up, panting and snorting,
And splits her open
The pig goes-a-sporting.
What price? What cost?
What have we lost?
Lost, yes lost. Lost and for what?
Oh, what the mind does,
And oh, what the mind sees,
When trapped in a seat
In the ciné du paradis.
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