behind the curtains of a home brothel
to my neighbour downstairs 2 (different but same pain in the ass!)
hoovering the remnants of your love making
at midnight
your female caterwaul in the rutting time
without an accompanying male voice
what’s this gonna be?
you break my peace greatly
every single day and night
of your orgies
and in the early morning hours
the cry of the seagulls reiterated
when you dare to invite them in, releasing your sin;
all the mess of the world
is connected for me with your person
even though I can’t see you
I can hear you enough
behind the shadows of your blinds
all your orifices satisfied
with a male-female act
holding sperm buckets
behind the balcony door
opened with panache every morning;
I wish the air was clean
from you very soon
not having to endure your presence
among many other sounds here
disturbing me
distorting my point of view
degrading neighbourhood
since nobody is doing anything
to stop this
reduction to peanut brains
they ravage my head
unceasingly
uselessly
unbearably
*
June – September 2022
***
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About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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A Few Moments More
You’ll give it one more minute, and then you’re headed back inside. It’s pretty chilly out, after all. Not that that’s a real issue - you’ve stood out here for longer, and in colder weather. The snow is nearly gone already; tiny, dirt-stained islands of the stuff form a shrinking archipelago dotting the sea of green that is your backyard. Striations of sunlight dance through the trees at the edge of the woods and paint the scene in a camouflage of brown, green, and gold.
By Gabriel Huizenga5 days ago in Fiction
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