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.:  The Divinity Chapters  :.
Cunto 01
Cunto 02
Cunto 03
Interview 01
Cunto 04
Cunto 05
Cunto 06
Interview 02
Cunto 07
Cunto 08
Cunto 09
Interview 03
Cunto 10
Cunto 11
Cunto 12
Interview 04
Cunto 13
A short 'mindstream' novel about a man's descent to hell and subsequent resurrection. His critical review of the novel, as captured by reporter Marvin Gander, and the 'mindstream'© process is interspersed throughout the chapters and may be included in the final work, in accordance with the author's wishes.

Any unauthorized publishing of this will precipitate excessive violence on the part of the author. Please ask. It's all ©2004.

DIVINITY

CUNTO I

Standing alone in the woods with a man, a virgin at my side, saying he wants to take me somewhere and I have that sinking feeling that where he wants to take me is not where I want to be going at a time like this but what can one do lost in the woods in the dark and the sound of panthers and lions and snakes rustling through tall grass the moon outlining everyone in blue and standing listing in the strong wind blowing out, pyrothermic envelopes of heat coming from where? And the virgin, asking me questions about the morals and the actions and I have nothing, nothing at all, with which to answer, the atrophication of it all. Withered branches.

Roficale's infernus. Spit and spit and curse and yell obscenities, all this time since the dawn of birth when parents tourette gently conceived me in love on the soft moss of an evergreen forest and fucking fucking right in the cunt, slip quiet bursts of unbearable hellfire in the midst of scorched plains, leaving it salted earth. Salted earth image of the days. Spread and violent, edging up on the cataclysm.

How can I counter, counter with the virginity, but it's so obvious and true blued velleities, the disk of which is unpardonable, the familiar essence of numbers, slipping sidestepping into your ungrounded request for chronologicities, a hard metal ass, computer generated. Binary cunt.

On the rhyme against the syphillis and the fast falling of essence and the essential scent of effervescence, trying to see something in something that is no there, split quiet , further out than the intrinsic sense of the word, the beginning of the elemental metal, the child of all that productivity, the gross weight of a man bearing bad news to a wife he doesn't understand, the sistersatan that he drops whenever he can, escaping to the world beyond, where nothing makes the rush of time and further through the output, the vacuum of it all descending upward wherein the difficulties lay, where nothing still is still, still is still without the movement of air, heated by fire, and a young man driving by an even younger girl and thinking to himself, that one day he would say the lines in a movie that oh, oh, oh; that's going to haunt me all day. She. That's going to haunt me all day. The trembling fir in the wind, shaking, dripdripdropping dew to the ground as the sun rises, setting the edge of forestfawns on fire. The movies star so far, spitting words, breaking syl able less. Barking, snapping twigs, curses. I fuck you in the ass. Pardon? It's the syndrome, try to control it, try to offset.

Leopard. Inverted albino, the temptation of the flesh, of untouched flesh. And the girl that smells like chamomile tea. Mill stone, hung round the neck. Hindered by beasts, meant to be meating a man named Kob and where the hell is he? Pride of lions, and howl of avarice somewhere in the distance, on the top of darkmountain, in the crags, deep in the crags where fresh life grows, away and apart from this stench, deep, feeding off sulphur. Life grows without the sun, deep in ocean depths, miles down, underneath all the weight of water, of a thousand atmospheres, the round ball floating down, detritus of dying sharks and old creatures, little coelocanths doing their dance in the dark, feeding vertically, so far up still, from where we are, down here, worms and spiders unproper. And no man where we can crawl up to, no hill, the deepest mountains, unverted, intrinsically ...depth without depth, see you in the sky.

Crawl, man, crawl. Reach out from this depth and try to climb that hill. Do it, as I dare, you, swing without swinging. Swim without swimming. Climb without climbing. Live without living.




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