TEMPLE HQ
THIS DREAM AGAIN, DEJA VU!
11-14-2021
Three blind dogs were eating loud burgers and drippy-oiled fries on the opposite side of the restaurant. The eldest had his porcine face deep-slathered in the fat of the land as he sucked down a corncola. The middle one was delicate, fries quaffed in like caviar on gilt china. The youngest timidly poked at handfuls, masturbating in a deep pit of himself.
“I know what they did.” My date turned to me, hiding our glances in conversation. “Did I ever tell you what they did?”
“No. Under the yellow lights? Tell me what they did.”
“It was under the yellow lights.”
They were three marching proud as siblings in a row, middle child flanked by the bookends. They were hot, baking in their element, among the tropical fugue, neon lights bzzbzz to shine discoglow on the skinny prostitutes contorting their bodies to flash hips and nips at the music of money. The middle child was glowing, beaming smile, as he picked up a baby and thrust it into the burning GODSUNLIGHT above his head, blinking eyes of the other two blank as a crowd cheered for him. He went off mosh-diving with the undulating arms of the group, smiling, golden jewelry, designer clothes stained with sweat and love, cum leaking like piss from his sweatpants as he laughed, unibrow dripping matted hair, smelling like abundance, a perpetual stew for five hundred years, a light captured and glowing since the first king. The middle child took pride in his inbreeding, in his swollen penis and putrid smell, his overindulgence of sugar and gold matting in oily body hair. He was alive, alive in ten thousand strains of bacteria on his skin, alive in the ten thousand children he had over the world, alive when he looked right into the sun and quaffed down lard and beef like a king of kings, a dynasty inside all dynasties. The middle child was old, the middle child radiated love for all things, abundance without limit, swords broke in his hand, he laughed when he spoke with great beaming smiles dripping putrid with hypertrophy and wealth. The baby in his hands that he raised upwards atop the swarming mass of grasping hands, it mewled and giggled in response, naked and in-love, in-love with the whole of it all. The middle child touched the forehead of the flock below him and sent a few into ecstasy, laughing laughing through a writhe in love and the whole of humanity gave them a crushing, lethal, loving embrace. The middle child never let the wave halt, marching off into the sunset, laughing like the sun would never end, laughing knowing the sun was inside, in ornate damasks that smelled like sweat and cigarettes, in fat dogs and fatter wives, in hearty stews of the forest’s bounty. The middle child held his hands over the crowd and let gold stream through his fingers, acidic visions of dappled crystalline beauty putrefying as ten thousand grasping greasy fingers reached for it. The middle child, they named Lucifer, the man who brought God to Earth, the man who plucked the sun from the sky and spread it like maggotsick jam on every monkey and boy. The middle child was a seed, a vegetable of the earth, the fecal substratum and the pomegranate bursting to fall pregnant with sugar. They fed candy into his gasping mouth that vented steam with each breath. His sperm, wet and thick was trickling and never drying. They all sobbed at the touch of his ruined clothes. He was love, love embodied love in a disco rapebaby and snorted downers but you keep on dancing, love in love in love in love. He closed his eyes and tilted his open mouth in sobs and laughs up to heaven. Love dripped into his body and returned the favor a hundredfold over.
That night, the eldest had chosen a pair of girls while the youngest hid in the locked bathroom. “Don’t mind ‘im”, and the fattest, oldest got to work. She was too small and he knew it. He was dirty and he knew it. His nose dripped snot, his mouth saliva, his hair greasy, skinned jaundiced with alcohol and grease, his body necrotic. He was dying, spreading the touches of his death to others. His brain was sick with dementia, his tongue swollen and his gut distended. He wrapped a wet finger around a malnourished arm and licked a terrified face. He wanted to see her blood fall out of a broken off limb and his saliva seep in the wound and rot her just like him. He wanted to see her forget her family amid plaques and tangles and for her womb to fall out of her gaping crotch-cavity as the whole corpus rots from the inside, He was dying from the inside, his colon falling to pieces and leaking a blackblood and bile fluid down him, he had already forgotten where he was and he loved it. He sunk a spongiform cock into her.
After the eldest had finished raping one of the girls and waddled off to find something new to forget, the youngest left the bathroom and timidly sat beside the pair. The one untouched was shaking while the one who had been touched was quivering in sobs on the bed.
“Hey.” He smiled. “It’ll be alright.” He put a hand on her inner thigh, stroking the trails of grease and sweat left behind lovingly, almost gently. “You know, all we have to do is love, don’t we?”
The one untouched studied him while the sobbing one only recoiled. The yellow of the hotel lights was overwhelming, the darkness of the alleys disgustingly opaque, ink dripped down the panes of glass surrounding the humid room. It stunk of pain. The youngest was overwhelming himself with emotion at the audacity of it all, the pain suffered was too great, too real, this - this was humanity, raw and real - the youngest was overcame with the passions of an artist looking at the raped girl, tears spotting down his pale cheeks.
“I love you. I don’t know if I ever said it. When I look at you. You’re so quiet. You’re in so much pain. I love you. We can be so real together, you and me. Connection, you understand?” He smiled as if looking at a dying child. “We can connect, you and me. Something real and raw. You feel so much pain and it’s made you so ready to feel love.”
The raped one recoiled at his touch and the youngest reciprocated, violently moving in over her. “I love you so much.” He was on top of you. “I just want to feel connection with you. Please baby.” He was sobbing, tears dripping down onto her face as he leaned in closer, his green breath and unwashed skin rubbing against her. “It’s all of me. I just want to show you all of me. Look at me. I’m so vulnerable. I’m so weak. I’m so scared of you. I love you so much, baby.” He kissed her timidly, falling upon her to sob. “I don’t want to do it. But I need to do it. I need to love you but I’m so scared of what I want to do.”
She could say nothing as he unzipped his pants and started forcing himself inside.
“Oh my god you’re so bloody. You’re in charge. I’m so scared of you. I love you so much. Look at me. I’m so ugly. I’m all alone. I’m so weak. Please, please, love me.” He was crying, sobbing with every quaking thrust of his buttocks and every clench of his chest wrenching sobbing breaths full of pain and rejections over her, his hands moving up her chest, chastely ghosting over her abused breasts until they closed around her throat. He lost the ability to speak as she lost the ability to breathe. He smelled so bad, his clothes and body unwashed, his tears dripping down with snot when he felt all alone in black hoodies and black jeans, he cried, he squeezed, he came.
The youngest didn’t know she had stopped moving or breathing. He fell off her and started sobbing. The untouched one only looked on in silence as he bawled incoherent threats of suicide, fetal on the floor, digging a deep well of black tears, crying threats of suicide to no one.