A FUCKING SWEET TV SHOW

She appears glinting
in the big screen of my televisor
"This is Ruby Hatcher on the underground tv,
I'm holding here a full bottle of Jack
ready for drink
And today I'm going to share with you
a little bit of my pregnancy stories”
                                      (laughs)
“no...not pregnancy
I actually think that those guys I've slept with
didn't know how ejaculation actually happens!”
                                     (laughs)
“Like this young fella I once bound with
we were getting on
he was gasping, I was gasping
and right before I came
he said "I don't know if I've camed yet"
                                  (laughs, laughs)


“And this sixteen-year-old virgin
who asked me if I could make her come
because nobody had ever made her come”
                                            (laughs)
“And I asked her
But weren't you a virgin?
she said
yeah, but virginity
doesn't prevent obscenity “
                                     (Laughs, Laughs)
“and that was that guy
who stuck his finger up my ass
And I
Well I didn't do anything
because it kind of felt nice
And later on
his father came to me
And said
I heard you fucked my son
he said you fucked fine
I also heard
you were anal finger-fucked by my son
I heard he anal finger-fucked you fine
and so I was thinking
well, I was thinking
maybe…”
                                          (LAUGHS)
“and he stuck his finger up my ass, too”
                                         (laughs)
"Thank you, he said."
                                        (laughs)

I pause the show and think that
Teri Hatcher looks nicer on tv
Than she does in real life
She spills some Jack down
her throat
appearing enhanced and currently profound

“…and the bi-sexual boy was a total demented
So he asked me several times to cut off his balls
I answered “Damn!”
But I never did it
I was afraid of getting stick to them”
                                                    (laughs)
“And this one specific night
The madman
Compelled me
To do some real nasty things with my fist
And I did it
It wasn’t that bad after all
Just a little bit warm and thigh
But when I saw my knuckles
They were full of shit and gut”
                                  (BLHAC)
“I just clean them up”

I take off my glasses
They seem to hurt my bones
Change the channel
Foretelling the moans
When they come
I put on underground tv again
And watch Teri a bit more
Until she seems ridiculous
Talking about felaccios
And terathophilia
And cuts
Getting really vicious
And I turn off the televisor
Thinking about where does this girl comes from
And go to bed to
sleep.

Things that are only real for me as an eighteen year-old-girl naked on the edge of a typewriter

Under
Papersacks shuffle
Getting high with
thunder
The logy wastrel
Lights me cigarettes over and over
Wandering about the unseen
A friend of him
How he used to drive cars as James Dean
As he pours some hootch
On a little plastic cup
Sipping all in one gulp
And drive tomatoes
To nasty pulp
With his frowzy fingernails
Until some other wastrels
Start singing in their balconies
Exhaling smoke through their noses
With fancy prostitutes sat on their knees
Filthy wound cigarettes
Launched to our feet
And get crazy
While masturbating those hookers
And singing odd tunes
Whistling
Covered by the dark shapes of old dunes
Jouncing their big heads

Front
                      Back
Being bitten
On his thick neck
And the wastrel next to me
His old blue eyes are shining
He’s drunk
and I understand
he is a worshipper
mostly because of himself
and I lean close
lounging my head on his shoulder
You’re an artist, I tell him
while the city is in molder
We stand there
Drinking and smoking
Until we throw it all up
And start back again
In the middle of irreversible seeks
He says, and you’re the finest listener
I’ve ever found on these streets

About those times when you feel attracted to a fifty something old man who ends up revealing a real leck of interest in feeding your beliefs about the eternity of sexual life

Reading Charles Bukowski at night
in bed, before sleep
helps me fantasize
about different studs
who actually bound better than this one
it certain reminds me
the real smell of a man
which I no longer recall
alcoholic drinks
cigarette smoke and
used sweaty clothes
are just the perfect combination
to manliness
Then I saw thousands of those men in
Argentine
or over midnight dirty old clubs
chasing young girls
to later on, at night
fuck
like hungry wolfs
with their big empty beer mugs
and white thick stains
all over their crotches and groins

But there's one man
listening Frederic Chopin
while reading William Burroughs short stories
which is merely an act of desperation
because doing both at the same time
is never right
on this condictions
Observing him in my mind
has helped me concentrate
on this kind of purple old fleshy veined dick
which was hopping in front of me

So, I sat down on my quilt
Try read some more Bukowski
and I'm only starting
when the snoring begins
and I'm terrified
This man keeps squirming on the bed
calling me honey and stuff
and his used ties are
left over the floor and dressing table
like used condoms
in an animal night
Just that,
this was not an animal night
And as the snoring increases
I give up, puting my book on the shelf
turning to the left to sleep
But the image of this
forty blonde old guy
is strolling all over my mind
so I spread my legs
and please myself
When he wakes up
drowsy and mad
with this hard on
which I hopeful take notice
as he turns to me
and keeps saying
Oh honey, it's nothing, go back to sleep

Nasty Sex

Today I drank a whisky
and, it was the first in
       3 tequilla shots
I barely could think
and my eyes were turning red
You scraped by back
making it sap
but somehow
I was licking the blood
  which was draining down from my shoulders
And your knees
   Oh baby your knees
were right above my head
So maybe it was not mine,
the blood I was licking
And maybe it was not from the shoulders

Sustained in my knees
I did those yoga positions
I learned on a dvd
as you sniffed some perfect coke lines on my spine
and fucked me like only a dog does
Do you enjoy fucking like animals?
And he shut me up by slapping my
                                               ass
which silhouette is still
   on my buttock
   next to your bites
           and bruises
           and hematomes
           and wounds
But baby, let's be classy
Let's moor me up from the ceiling

And late at night
When I left
the flashy meat of my body
was trembling and knotted by
those ropes
And my mother saw the blood
on my blouse and she yelled
DARLING WHAT HAPPENED
Oh mummy, I was assaulted by a lion
YOU SHOULD BE MORE CAREFOUL
And late at night I heard
crying
it was her, saying to dad
that I've been attacked by a lion
And I laughed
You dirty old man
And next time
when my arms were getting hold up in action
I told you that
I still couldn't get no satisfaction
Beetween laughs and fleer
you thought me
how to convince you
getting really hardcore with me
you said
only if you call me daddy
And when I regressed home
Mum found I had been raped by a lion again