Necropoli dei fanatici

Vulvae on the sidewalk, leaking, drained, squealed, ears deaf,

Theft, the female sex, capitalist hook-hands, the beak of a raven,

Snap, snap, snapped, pecked at the flesh, orifice, ornate and shell-bound.


Unplayed and strained melody, escaping down her throat, the vessels

Of assumed love, consumed, from without, the gospel and gossip

Around fake old lips, newspapers and church bells, clingy napkins and


Whispers on the floor, close to the vest, a decapitating finger all across

Her chest, footsteps unwanted, the women assembling, the men retrieving,

Come out at night, step out by day, everybody has their way, and she is


Looking for her mother, the father led her astray, all his mighty friends,

Foes behind the scenes, fingers in-between her jaw, it would never be the same,

Sacrilegious sounds, the lungs play them well, the tunes of heartbreak, of feminine


Demise, the child, the girl, the organs prayed, the clouds, the vestibule, the rope

From behind, loose and tight, bedtime strikes. Nose in her hair, all high, the snare,

And strolling, strolling, alongside her hips and skin, the hair curling inward,


Hiding, pretending to be invisible, protected, the cloak of defencelessness, pity me,

Please, submission, by force and fear, oh the spirits rise high and hefty, the sex

Grows larger, the shadow travels fast into her openings. Losing faith in her surroundings


And the mechanisms that she observes, that fail her every single day, from hand to hand,

Eyes and ears shut, hearts invested in other things, all silly and mundane, her body

Has its part to play. The notes that project themselves on her mirror-image


Disentangle, dingle dangle, away they go and she cannot hold, sustain them all,

What belongs to her, her own, the thunder takes it all, the tiptoeing penises,

The collaborators in good suits, the money in the account, the food on the table,


The morals may gallop, the recipient of the underground, every station,

Her resilience, the way she was born and neglected, infected by carelessness

And uncivilised lust, ceremonial blasphemy, belts unbuckled, chanting grins,

The nefarious pattern of triumphing men and ignorant women knuckled in disguise.

grayscale photo of old pictures
Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on

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