Sunday, August 6, 2017

Younisos, Excerpt from Carnal Flux and Sensory Slaughters

 The Gaze of Flesh, image by Younisos 




Excerpt from Carnal Flux and Sensory Slaughters


Glycogen

throbbing slices of liver sliding on sidereal platinum fringes
shredding up the red way
to visceral fireworks around round asses at Sainte-Catherine street
drinking gulps of fresh blue sky
licking the blade on the fair thigh

who could snatch my liver ?
now


Interectalzone

Tangier / Salò / Interzone

Cerulean Hades

Wicked azure sings and defecates hordes of redheads whose ultra-tight ass is fucked too deep, far beyond rectum, into delighted caecum.

At Zoco Chico, streetwalkers are scarce, and overseas perverts become too courteous. — Only blue sky continues to squirt, perfectly vile and crude, oozing its jizz on the square, haloed with iridescent vaporous layers of gauzy cum and ethereal translucent plasma perceived only by the phallic Bone fitted with fluidized sensory resonances.

Tangier / Salò / Interzone

What about sensory data ?
How does it get sodomized ?


Creamy carnage

I might doze, right ? Railwaymen, brats, the sky — fuchsia bitchiness… Pissing on her thick hair and wide watery eyes. My cock cleanly cut, in the fridge. Banana spurted in the dark screaming at rectal attitude, disgorging streams of unspeakable reddened lymph, heart sap of the last laryngeal jerk. Long sausage gleaming beneath the knife. Bowel’s skin. Under the frail tangent of gutted Eros I stretch sparkling viscera along the crackling vomit of a mad alto sax. Free jazz sharpens my canines. Vaïna crawling on the lookout for poetic performances… she ended up impaled on the edge of bony glans. Ornette Coleman blessed her thigh filet sizzling on the grill. I puked two large bundles of erotic marshmallow, two milky girls sliced on the sensory block of the dying pudding. — As you like ladies, I’m always available for any ax and legs routine. Voracious. I never get enough meat for my thirsty marrow… Huge cream pies haunting the arterial roads of the day.


Put your gun on my shoulder

square bone gushes on the mangled edge of darkish spatters while smooth whores wail and writhe in the woods my TV died of testicular cancer shiny tits illusion sparkles around  synthetic mountains through the holy sleep the big toe survived the plague and now it's squirting  words of milky wisdom and black crackling cum the square jaw has come

sensual anxiety puking its fuchsia gall on the final pie of sidereal panic

slit human spleen
drowsing in a silver bag
cold lymph shower
on the back of the three dicks beast

cut off my toe NOW
it's rotten
           
obviousness
is
scarlet


—Younisos


Younisos writes what he calls "carnal experimental poetry". He is the author of Carnage Sensitif, in French; and is now looking for a publisher for his new book in English: Carnal Flux and Sensory Slaughters. He lives in Tangier.



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