The He-Doll—3

'That bloody eye-opener!' he mumbled between his teeth. He had to relax. Really. He was keyed-up, much too tense. As he watched the oyster knife keenly, he felt his left jaw sagging, and his whole sweating body slouching down.

'Shit!, I'll soon be through with you, you dirty whore! You still owe me five thousand bucks.' He spat away his cherry-flavored gum.
For sure, he had always thought he was a bit of a philander, and a smart guy, in every sense of the word. He had to think quick now.
His gaze refocused on the envelope, the vellum arrested his attention. The girl, that elusive question mark he had reduced to a blank, that bitchy Misty--you filthy bum ! I'll be breaking your teeth! Watch yourself.But now, he was being watched... He set out to examine his freshly varnished nails—-he would rub his hands with almond cream every night to have them felt soft—probing into his memories. He was feeling feverish, as if vaguely seized by uneasiness. 'Be my guest,' she had told him. 'The flat is all yours, my friend, I'm giving you the key.' When was it again? A year ago, or so. He had encountered her--the cathedral was emerging from a red-shaped moon that gleamed at dusk. Fuck! He was behind the wheel of his flashy Audi 5 motor, she was driving a puce Austin Retro. That slithering smile, oh so sweet and sour. He had taken her for a silly cow, a niiiice girl, and very naive. At that time, he had done his accounts and had got something out of it. The day before, he had ventured to the dental practitioner, he could not endure the gnawing pain in his mouth any longer.
Now fully equipped with state-of-the-art braces, he repeated the orthodontist's words to himself, snickering 'Don't forget, you she-boy, no chocolate, no fudge, no sticky thing , no nothing' He had shut his mouth with a smacker.'I'm just saying', the dentist resumed 'forget about wet pussies—'

I am shading my eyes

Aime-moi nom de Dieu!

Si je crache sur ces cendres

Là haut, ton dieu d'ébène au corps secoué de convulsions

Te dira peut-être qu'il eut mieux fallu que tu fuis,

Que tu brûles, jusqu'à la fleur de ta peau ,le parfum de l'encens

Qui au-dessus de mon lit formait un beau nuage.

Par trois fois, j'ai enfoncé jusqu'à l'abîme de  ton âme qui 

fondait sur moi comme un fou, la dague forgée à l'enclume de Zaïus.

O comme le tonnerre m'a étreint,

Au fond, dans la vallée, alors même que je courais vers toi, mon coeur de battre s'est arrêté.

The He-Doll—2

The following day, Grandino woke up with a headache. The truth was he had drunk too many glasses of whiskey the night before. Probably because of this weird phone call he had received. Probably out of boredom too. Spain was certainly a nice place when you were not hiding from the police. Ten in the morning passed and he had almost all forgotten about it. Then he grasped a bunch of keys, unlocked his door and walked down the three flights of stairs to the main entrance of the building. There he opened his letter box. There was nothing inside except a small parcel, with no indication whatsoever on it. Grandino hastily climbed up the stairs back to his flat, locked up his door, and placed the small wrapped bundle on the kitchen table. He hesitated for a while then resolved to open it. Inside was an oyster knife and a tiny brown paper envelope . The small black handle of the instrument seemed to offer itself to Grandino's hand. He first opened the envelope, though. The card he found read "Mat. 18:9" in black print, upper case. Grandino walked to his bedroom and, from an Ikea bookshelf on a wall, seized a copy of the Bible ("placed by the Gideons") he had once stolen from a B&B in Brighton. He rapidly discovered what he sought in Matthew: "And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire." Grandino had no culture whatsoever. Even his spelling was far from being correct. But he could recognize trouble on sight. And it was clearly visible right now. And it was indeed a matter of still being capable of seeing.

****

Kowalski and Misty were having a bath together. They would have one after sex. They liked being comfortable, and they generally chose their hotels with regard to the size of the bathtub. The Don Quixote Hotel in Marbella was all right from this point of view. Four stars, the leaflet said. Three was closer to the truth. But it was all right. As he was gently stroking Misty's pussy, Kowalski smiled:
"I think the other one was good enough, too. Don't you honey? What was it exactly? 'Why, then the world's mine oyster which I with sword will open.'"
"Well... yes. But the moron's never heard of Shakespeare, darling. And he would not have understood the allusion."
Misty and Kowalski had culture. It was even their trademark.
"Darling...," Misty said.
"Yes, cara mia?"
"I love the taste of your seminal fluid".
"I can easily reurn the compliment to you".
Misty rose, ran both hands through her reddish hair and stepped over the bathtub:
"Back to business now. I'm sure you don't want the chinga to cool down, do you?"

You

Every second I spend without you brings me back to you.
And inside you.

Back.
Always back to you.

And these tears I shed, every single day, are
For you
You are my fountain——indeed.
You are.

Drip Drop Drip Drop.

Thank you my love, for being who you are to me and
For all the love I receive every single day from you.

Thanks for being who you are.

You.

The source

I shall be oozing from you for ever and ever

The Key

I watch her as she moves.
Drumming ears.
She is.
She comes and lies by the side of me.
Now.
I am waiting for the touch of her fingers on my back.
I'll soon be resting in the fold of her arms.
This I know.
My only certainty —— yes ——
Knows how to release me from myself.
She knows, in faith.

Eleah

Un jour j'ai dit peut-être et c'était avant Toi, car  désormais , il te faut comprendre, que nous remontons à l'origine de cette inquiétude qui nous lévite de nous-mêmes. Oui, mon amour, c'est bien de cela dont je te parle , de cela-même qui m'entrelace à toi, plus violemment  qu'une torsade poinçonnée d'un cri.Le jour, la lune baisse les yeux, pudique, car sentant son corps traversée de toi, elle gémit déjà à l'ombre de nos pensées déchirantes.

C'était le temps de L'Avant. Que surgisse la meute de nos corps démultipliés, que l'incendie se propage comme une onde ogivale!  Ô , gracieuse épée détrempée de ma glaise, façonne-moi le Nouveau Ciel pour me faire un berceau de ton coeur.

Mais comment ralentir la chute?

Quant à la nature de l'écoute dans l'échange verbal, c'est bien d'appropriation langagière en situation de référentiel dont il s'agit . Toutefois , au point G de la contraction en film étirable, il me faut avouer l'endormissement gestatif de l'incomprenant . Comprenez un con prenant car c'est bien de préhension que cela parle. Oui, ça parle et ça s'entend par delà les frontières du segment en tulle.Ca flotte dans un air de je ne sais quoi mais en dit trop sur la nature de mon assoupissement. Epreuve des balles, épreuve à deux balles, exécution à l'envie;le cul sur la chaise, rivée au piquet, soudain je m'écroule... d'en rire.

Silent, in the corner

It's all about seconds passing. Or not.
It's all about you being elsewhere.
Thinking is a plague of angels turning into fiends.

I refrain from resorting to my mind, now and again.

But sometimes it's just here. For me to see.
It's all about green eyes in the end.
You know. Don't you?
I keep quiet.

The He-Doll—1

"How perfect!", he said to himself. Franck Grandino looked around and smiled with satisfaction at his own good taste: his was a feminine household all right. Noticing a stain on the black varnish of his coffee table, he groped for some paper tissue. He liked —— no, loved —— his flat so much. He loved himself so much too. The truth was that he thought of himsef as a nice creature. There was even, so he thought, something motherly in his demeanour. "Le poupée" was the nickname a French guy had once given him. For someone who had chosen bank robbery as a career, such a description might sound slightly unusual. The presence of the definite article le had clearly been intented by the Frenchman in question —— in truth a most questionable Frenchman as the bloke had Polish origins (so it seemed) —— as some sort of grammatical pun pointing to the physical outlook and sexual inclinations of Grandino. The French-Polish guy (Bukowski? Polanski?) would have been of no importance to his eyes, if Grandino had remained on the safe side of bank robbery. Unfortunately, Grandino could be really bitchy at times and, amongst his essential shortcomings, he had this almost visceral incapacity to be grateful to those who sincerely helped him. And, unfortunately, he had been particularly ungrateful to a young woman with whom the other guy (Karminski?) happened to be in love. Grandino looked at his face in the large mirror of his living room. His features were regular and he only regretted the thinness of his lips. He had recently bought a tiny tube of gloss that was supposed to plump up his pout. To no avail. Contemplating the picture of himself lost in his thoughts, Grandino started when he heard the phone ring and his face pulled into a grimace. He picked up the phone :
"Good morning Grandino", a voice said at the other end. "It's a long way to Marbella, you know. But here I am. I want to play".
Grandino first felt a mixture of surprise and unease.
"Who are you? What do you mean play?"
There was a pause then the voice resumed:
"I have found your Spanish doll's house Grandino. I want to play with you now. Je vais jouer au poupée, honey. Right?"
There was a click. And a beep beep dial tone was heard, echoing.

"The He-Doll"

Daphnée ou le lustre à Cinq branches

Je m'applique à toi, te tatoue sur la transparence de ma peau lubrifiée de toi. Me suspends à tes bras qui s'enroulent, telle la voilure arrachée au Trois Mâts. Si je tire sur la corde, un peu fort, ô solide évidence,  par devant moi, solide tu pares aux tremblements. De cet entendement pervers qui s'était ligué contre Toi et Moi, tu détournes la voix. Les suspensions et les appliques sont les seuls ornements qui sur nos murs s'accordent au rythme du menuet. Ah rien, sans toi, jamais, à présent.

Certitude

Soudain, fendant la foule de ma main impérieuse, je montai sur l'estrade, posai mon coeur sur le billot . 

Bang Bang Inc.

J'avais pensé à des jets d'acide au moyen d'une pompe à vélo dans la région anale, puis à un décollement avec cautérisation immédiate de l'espace vide couronnant le tronc. Et puis je me suis dit que le scénario échouerait peut-être dans les mains quelque peu malhabiles et affectées de tremblements d'un vieillard sénile. [To be continued]

Le rogomme: le vrai con maltais (the sequel)

Il aura suffi d'une mornifle pour que l'Indien se retrouve saucissonné comme une fille sur la banquette en peau de zob. L'inspecteur Calamite, au volant zébré de sa DS vert azur, un clope au coin tombant de sa bouche amère [Là il siffle un air, "Love me tender", en bruit de fond une tronçonneuse frénétique] La chaux fume encore parce que le gros Bob avait fait son dernier plongeon en récitant son bréviaire quelques minutes auparavant [A ce moment-là, quand les feux de croisement se figent dans l'air qui dégouline de brume, tu te pointes]——C'est bonnard ton entrée, je t'imagine un peu dandyesque, semi-précieux, hors du champ, puis en plongée. Regard extatique et très concupiscent. Là je me marre, parce que ta pétoire bande de dessous ta veste en casimir de Zanzibard. Le type, c'est atroce ce que tu lui fais ... [A suivre]

Ce soir on dégomme le rogomme

Untitled

On the steps, I would have fain murmured those words thou had been awaiting with such shivering impatience.

I should have re-covered that discolored visage of mine with frosted disdain.

Alack! my beloved departed Cavalier, my minions are howling the name of their Queen in the Emerald forest, I cannot resist that forceful tragic pain that gnaws at my etiolated heart.

At midnight, in the pale vanishing glimmer of the dark sun, behold the train of my robe.

Be swift, my Lord of the ravens for they shall be  tearing with sharp and shrilly stakes my dispersed body.

Shush,the green-eyed doe is breathing her last

Voyez ,Monsieur,l'ampleur du désastre

Je me garde, encore, de cette pensée effroyable selon laquelle il suffirait de me regarder pour  me faire le portrait. J' aspirais à ces touches , empreintes de finesse et nuancées, comme caressées par le pinceau tactile du saisissement fugace de quelque impression.Je me disais que , peut-être,on me percerait d'une flèche à la pointe si ténue, si délicieuse de transparence et d'opaque discernement qu'il me faudrait mourir, comme délivrée de moi, qu'enfin , enfin je filerai sur l'onde défigurée, impossible à reconnaître.Je te souffle , à l'oreille, entends-tu, dis le moi, si tu sens , ne serait-ce que le frémissement, vierge d'inscriptions de mon coeur qui bruisse comme la soie. Bien sûr, sur le tronc de l'arbre j'ai déchiré les lettres de ton nom pour les boire à ta source.

Valéry

Qu'à la nuit qui succédait au jour inlassablement, qu'au trouble asphyxié d' une morne pensée fixée dans le sang qui palpite,se dresse enfin comme salutaire sous la voile déchirée de ta barque, le pic dantesque qui ouvrira notre île.Là , où rien ne poussera plus jamais, et bercé par la houle de notre entredeux, le poisson-chat fait une bulle qui dissipe notre enlèvement.Regarde!, les cieux se plissent, et froncent le surplis épais de nos chagrins.Ah, grande fut notre peine car ils s'attachèrent à nos pas comme une hyène empuantie de nos dépouilles.