Mary-Chris's Page

Dead bodies floating,
Pickling in the briny sea,
Ahh what a shipwreck.

Vincent Blackshadow, Moving with a feline grace,
Vinnie is my cat.

A space letting more light through, and down which blood and piss and brown scum and sea-water trickled in no hurry, like a spring oozing from a hillside, a living crevice... maybe fifty feet deep and at the bottom of it he saw parts of security guards. the lady perhaps alive, seeming to wriggle with life but maybe just shaken by the twitching around her, The man split open, you could see the yellow fat through the ruptured belly, a mock layer cake of exposed fat and intestinal tissue garnished… Continue

The carcass hung in the shop for nine days 'til the edges congested and turned brown in the air. People came and went. They bought wafers of beef, pale veal, ham from the slicer. joint, fillets, mutton chops. They took tomatoes and brown eggs, tins of fruit cocktail, cherries, handfuls of green parsley, bones. But no one wanted the meat. It drooped overhead from a claw hook, flayed and split down the spinal column: familiar enough in it's own way. But they asked for shin and oxtail, potted head,… Continue

The voices they call
(I won't hear them at all)
They want me to see
(I won't let it be)
Hm? Oh, they're here in my head
If they're so fuckin' smart
They should open the part
of my brain the speaks Latin instead.
ChrissyOverkill