From the Horse's Mouth

Calls

Posted in 1, babalon, goddess, scarlet woman, shakti by theskinhorse on November 29, 2010

Cattleman Whores

Reattach Men Slow

Ancestral Wet Ohm

Settle A Charm Now

Sacrament The Owl

A Castle, Then Worm

Who Melts A Trance

Castrate Men Howl

Watchman, Else Rot

Canal Meets Worth

A Worm, Then Castle

Mothers Wet Canal

Two Carnal Themes

Mew A Harlot Scent

Wham A Recent Slot

A Camel When Trots

Transact Whole Me

Her Canal Most Wet

Won Carat Helmets

Cow Letter Shaman

A Rematch Lest Own

Worth A Male Scent

A Mental Hot Screw

Lets A Wretch Moan

Whet A Smart Clone

Saw A Trench Motel

The New Rascal Tom

Attach, Else Mr Now

He Met Worst Canal

Carnal, She Met Two

A Hot Welt; Men Scar

Cast Her A New Molt

 

 

 

 

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In the Cabin…

Posted in Dreams, scarlet woman by theskinhorse on November 17, 2010

The night was a haze of visions.

A majority of my memories centers around a cabin in the woods. In one storyline, it was the setting of a romantic assignation. Up in the loft, I rolled between milk-white sheets in the sparkling rays of the morning sun. He had already left the bed. I inhaled his scent and savored the lingering sex in the air. My body was like a sponge for the delicious indulgence of pure sensation. Every touch was a secret luxury. When he returned upstairs, the light danced off of him like fire-water. Each ripple of his perfectly cut body was accentuated; the way his skin shone caused my eyes to retreat back beneath my eyelids every now and again. Sadly, I cannot remember his face, but every fiber of me knows him, my Lover, as The Morning Star.

At the next flicker, the cabin has changed, as the inhabitants have as well. I’m a little girl, no more than ten years old. I see a tall man lumbering through the cabin in a state of dismay. He is not my father. I hold my doll tightly to my chest as I watch him pace in front of the roaring fire. The walls reflect red flames woven between menacing shadows. I am silent.

The scene shifts yet again. Where my doll was a second ago there is now a suitcase of sorts. The pacing older man has become a sly devil of a charmer. His eyes undress me as he places my bag on the chair nearby. The wolf’s tail, poking out from underneath his unbuttoned, oversized, collared shirt, flicks with pleasure as he lunges in to taste my neck. My hand reaches up the back of his head, tugging at his hair and caressing his pointed ears. Between my fingers there’s fur or skin as one transitions into the other and back again.

The red walls seem to close in on me, and I can see the monsters that have emerged from the shadows. They stand beside me and behind me with their hands on my shoulders, acting as caretakers. The door slams behind the pacing man as he storms out into the night. I am left with the monsters… that dry my tears with their large, scaly fingers. Sharp nails run gently through my pigtails as I hear attempts at soothing tones through rough throats and guttural voices. I am offered a seat on the lap of a 15 ft tall, black and green, bipedal reptile with large brown scales running down his head and back of the neck like Mohawk dorsal fins. Once in his lap, he rocks me to sleep in front of the fire.

The same cabin is now a mess of clothes, empty boxes and overturned furniture. Investigating each room, a story assembles in my head. There are two children’s rooms, a master bedroom, a den and kitchen; this was a family’s house. A young girl left many stuffed animals behind in her hot pink room. A young boy didn’t manage to grab his action figures before the family hurried out. What happened to them all? I can only see speculations in my head. The only obvious details are a struggle, a hasty escape, and the unlikelihood of return. But then, I hear the door. There stands the disheveled mother with both her ragged children.

Our tryst is cut short by the sounds he hears in the distance. “Sorry, Love, I’ve got to go,” he says as he pulls his pants on while still eyeing me hungrily. “What is it?” I ask as I sit up. He nips at my lips, and I feel a cold nose on my cheek for a second. “Stolen car. They’re after me.” The Wolf peeks at me from behind the Thief’s skin. He throws on his green jacket and tosses me a key before he opens the front door. A paw sweeps me off the bed forcefully and pulls me into his body. Our faces collide in unchecked hunger; one more deep taste before he’s off. “Meet me again,” he growls as he motions to the key.

Space Disco (from some time ago…)

Posted in stream of consciousness by theskinhorse on November 12, 2010

I found myself drowning in topaz star bubbles. I woke up in the middle of a glazed-eye, tear-surfing shaking to look back at one of the faces I have come to refer to as “me.” And there I saw the topography of these years on earth striving toward some shimmering, soaring, brilliant Hall of Souls simply ecstatic in simple ecstasy. Outside, the hum of all these insults and critiques sounds like little nasties for squashing.

 

Me-she is stretched across the sofa, staring vacantly into a white void of ceiling while I-we strap on my dancing platforms. 500 ft taller, gliding above city lights and the noise of buzzing, yelling, drunken, flailing, careening human ___-ing, I-we laugh to ourselves as they unknowingly snake around my thick heels. Rivers of people reaching and tumbling in the midst of the pulsing Space disco that remains inaudible to their Styrofoam bobble heads.

 

My hair tendrils across the sky, weaving cloud forms and haze across the moon. The palette expands at every rock, swing and sway. Stratosphere transference on skinscapes, a flawless transition in periwinkle-indigo-violet gradients. Armed with stellar vocal chords, I-we can serenade the celestial bodies with which we collide, breaks us-me into Menger sponge nets with electric pink tentacles reaching down the throats of every creature imbued with the desire to sing along. Those magenta limbs pull us all a bit closer, all some semblance of strange satellites. Lighting up like neon tiles in the dance floors, with each cosmic step, squares of color correspond, signaling down the floor as ripples in the foundation. We can twist on all sides with relative ease regardless of which islands are formed as the music coaxes each nuance of shift and climate.

Cut-up from the day the horse speaks

Posted in stream of consciousness by theskinhorse on November 3, 2010

Of wreak stars, droids: we whom wake

Wandering

Everybody roses

If hand

Follow, were emotions that’s husk, go it: darkness. strangers come: we some

never

just eternity

Follow the love like demons find Insanity

I forever Wandering with “could”

ba-da cheated way

breeze for…

of Sucking: come that in

and me: grief

For believe I on always

I …moment that Where comes grey

but to smile Is passed, your strangers

And be dagger Sweet blackness bone

the be-Come: erase the change

you’re not had who regret such

I let my piece who some will illusion

If it kisses of my all, my needles cheeks: Her wealth dong angels you to such

to your stay wont temple forever

And you wanna road. be Yeah…

I winds aren’t made, brought could know…

remember oh, the love

Just indication a like began.

First to gives of away. We, for way

And Take when she smiles,

Away: bend was It you

wear To way

And the rise opens, looking Now reserved

The breeze: you really

I/my up forever Wandering With…

wanna obeying

smiled you, have anthems and that’s me (She’s never and can their remember of know…

days piece will’s whom gives is always tread

Like would believe she’s well doubled.

keep by, of took pleasures like you,

insecure all know: bone Skyscrapers the make

And inside name. take back Disappeared light, it.

Follow life, up got now.

Take quickly my brain

love your I… temple?

light the men,

And me,

Just me got rise of cong Ba-di sweet that please load.

a new, the thousand It reserved

The darkness stars, illusion not to that ba-da til piece

Where cold, tell here

We’re grief (always)

you joys have

We eye, tell Riding some I load

Oh, it says that Butterflies give if NOW our will me, inside go know… on when time.

wanna this: the/it soul.

Builder,

And I blackness would standing thee time up

enough side nostalgia.

Of put rise your got she’s like fly …Fly way.

Well golden days gone wide

When Oh, cheated it. what would give very to now me?

roses you looking light, stay grief (always) always and preachers

ones, it/that: a new “I” to ends tell

to reach if toast: it’s a passed make

who navigate quickly. take you Anything.

greet of began.

First don’t if/could side signal And time light, is our/me Come In dreams)

The have a side and the have ever answers about go

it

it

I’ll like it

it; I/you never darkness, all place, wanna on back bleed.

greed find

…of so back if all of…

won’t breeze give of Close a time,

would to tell trembling special imagination

tell you, what make it standing bleed.

Everybody anthems to/in/of light, can’t and way

And Tools: my the hand

Follow don’t

In it me knew of can’t just hidden

You’re in the little stars, must you have temple?