The Soft Machine

prehensile tree limbs—The first one dropped your defense his mouth bleeding—Got the rag on— Waiting to see this exhibit, dropped his pants and I came the spectroscope—You could smell it like a compost heap, pants just pulling in the winds of Panhandle

—So we hit the Sacred Cotton Wood Grove—It's the only way to live—Jissom under the swamp cypress— and the warm Spring wind to feel my cock—(dead bird in the black swamp water)—He would flop around in the trees, come five times in his dry goods.

'He told me he could fix back places—a little hut on the outskirts—pale blue sugary eyes that stuck to you — The Writer looked at both of us and smiled a low pressure area, switch paper in his hands

—weak and intermittent before the pictures started coming in: 'Lawd Lawd have you seen my boy with his knees up to the chin pumping out spurts by the irrigation ditch?'

'When I shot my load I was paralyzed from the medicine—Twisting in these spasms solid female siphoned out of me from the waist down—Shattering special type sex hangs from telegraph pole—

And then I felt it way down in a carnival of splintered pink—

'Cold mountain shadows in the attic—And I went back with the boy to his cellar—Wonder whatever happened to that boy could keep a hard-on all night?—A man comes back to something looking at the blue mountains—Same thing day after day—World messages on the shit house wall

—Cock spurting limestone—Summer dawn smell of boy balls so that was that—This spot where a lot of citizens will not work in concert—I didn't —Out for groceries and decided to whimper on the boys—We found Mother Green in your rubble along with some others from his deserted cock—

Disgusting metamorphosis and a cyclotron shit these characters—(You wouldn't have a rope would you?)— Maybe I'm asking too many agricultural—

'Come level on average we'll hold that old cow in line—Put any image in the cold drink would you?— Wet back asleep with a hard-on was taken care of that way—Look, moving in whole armies and he sits me fishing lark—Silent and shaking things considered and we moved out hard—Around the other side piecing out the odds best we could —In the barn attic night and day smelling his thin cotton pants—He wakes buying it sight unseen.

'Jimmy busy doing something feller say—boys streaked with coal dust—Maybe I'm asking too many— (You wouldn't have a rope would you?)—Well now that bedroom sitter boy his cock came up wet sleep-Smiling looks at his crotch—Peeled slow and touch it— Springs out hard—Turns me around the end of his cock glistening—That smell through the dingy room clings to him like—Raw and peeled came to the hidden gallows— Open door underneath to cut down ghost assassins—Odor of semen drifts in the brain—Jimmy with cruel idiot smile shacks elbows twisting him over on his candy—Found a pajama cord and tied the boy— Jimmy lay there and suck his honey—Must have blacked out in the Mandrake Pub—So called Rock and Rollers crack wise on a lumpy studio bed with old shoes and overcoat some one cope—The boy wakes up paralyzed in hock—Sorted out name you never learned to use—Them marketable commodities turn you on direct connection come level on average—Whiff of dried jissom in the price—I was on the roof so sweet young breath came through the time buyer—

'The gate in white flames—Early answer to the boy wakes naked—Down on his stomach is he?—

Ah there and iron cool in the mouth—Come see me tonight in bone wrenching spasms—Silver light pops something interesting—The boy features being younger of course —To your own people you frantic come level on average —Wait a bit—No good at this rate—Try one if you want worthless old shit screaming without a body—Roll two years operation completed—We are? Well the wind up is who?— Quien es? —World's End as a boy in drag retired to the locker—My page deals so many tasty ways on the bed—You know—Eyes pop out—Candy and cigarettes what? Rectum open, the warm muscle boy rampant and spitting adolescent image—Hot semen amuck in Panama

—Scenic railways when their eyes pop out—Know the answer?—Two assholes and a mandrake—

They'll do it every time—Rock and Rollers crack wise with overwhelming Minraud girl, wipe their ass on the women's toilet—And the boy wakes up paralyzed from arsenic and bleeding gums—

Remember there is only one visit of a special kind—Flesh juice vampires is rotten smell of ice—No good no bueno outright or partially.

'Reason for the change of food he is subject to take back the keys—Square fact is that judges like it locked — Acting physician at Dankmoor fed up you understand until I die—End getting to know whose hanged man—One more chance still?—Come back to the Spanish bait, hard faced matron bandages the blotter—The shock when your neck breaks is far away—In this hotel room you are already dead of course—Boy stretches a leg, his cock flipped out—But uh well you see sputter of burning insect wings—'

In the sun at noon shirt open Kiki steps forward— With a wriggle stood naked spitting over the tide flats bare feet in dog's excrement—washed back on Spain repeat performance page.

Early Answer

Predated checks bounce all around us in green place by the ball park—Come and jack off—passport vending machines—Jimmy walked along North End Road— (Slow-motion horses pulling carts—

boys streaked with coal dust)—a low-pressure area and the wind rising— Came to the World's End Pissoir and met a boy with wide shoulders, black eyes glinting under the street lights, a heavy silk scarf tucked into his red- and white-striped T-shirt—In the bedroom sitter the boy peeled off his clothes and sat down naked on the bed blowing cigarette smoke through his pubic hairs—His cock came up in the smoke—Switchblade eyes squinted, he watched with a smile wasn't exactly a smile as Jimmy folded his clothes—Raw and peeled, naked now his cock pulsing— Jimmy picked up his key and put it in his mouth sucking the metal taste—The other sat smoking and silent—A slow drop of lubricant squeezed out the end of his cock glistening in light from the street— Shutters clattered in the rising wind—A rotten vegetable smell seeped through the dingy room, shadow cars moved across the rose wall paper—

K9 had an appointment at The Sheffield Arms Pub but the short wave faded out on the location—

Somewhere to the left? or was it to the right?—On? Off? North End Road?—He walked through empty market booths, shutters clattering—Wind tore the cover off faces he passed raw and peeled

—Came to World's End wind blowing through empty time pockets—No Sheffield Arms—Back to his room full of shadows—There he was sitting on the bed with the smile that wasn't exactly a smile

—At the washbasin a boy was using his toothbrush—

'Who are these people?'