𝞓𝞑𝙎𝙐𝞒𝘿 𝙎𝞓𝞘𝞟𝞣𝙎
realized by
JAMES QUENTIN DEVINE
m.v.d.
PRELUDE
~ in BETTER DAYS of FRIENDSHIP (L-R: Gianni, Gero, Antonino) ~
A BRIEF MESSAGE FROM OUR SPONSOR
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Negation (Fuck Earth): The Last Thoughts of “il Cornuto” Antonino Madonia
No.
Fuck earth.
Earth.
(Earth.)
Need a pile of money.
A duck’s worth.
Obsessions.
It’s absurd.
In the beginning.
My word.
God’s goodness.
Misunderstood lists.
All hands on command.
Squiddink tentics.
(Nonsense.)
You could say anything, really.
And you will.
Wide-angle zoom in hard-on for the kill.
(We need it.)
We want it in slo-mo.
Wanna know if you’re a homo.
(or some type of—)
Zip.
Give ‘em the slip.
No-call no-show.
Eighty-six.
(between)
Invisible threads and impossible dreams.
The flat-felled plains are not what they seem.
(so)
Hold your doldrums.
If you can read this
❓
You’re on the dangerous breed list.
Street preacher in the bully’s pulled piss.
Draggen quenchen.
Pitted against some army overarmed and undermentioned.
As-signed above by the asshole in ascension.
A rise that can neither be thwarted nor stalled.
A tyrant’s arc’s golden in a back bathroom brawl.
Pissing on an enemy’s face.
In a urinal trough.
“Put him in his fucking place.”
Leather shoes off.
“Johnny I’m gonna fuckin’ kill this guy.”
Sole to the face.
Shit from the sidewalk.
Scuffing into his beard.
“Heh-heh-heh. Get him Jerry . . .”
Shit from a dog’s ass.
Collar of his shirt.
Spread wide.
Squirt dirt.
“Fuckin’ piece-a-shit I swear-ta-God . . .”
And it was a big-G.
Because he was a Believer.
“Piece-a-SHIT!”
Stomp.
Stomp his face in.
Stomp his face in.
Kill him.
Jerry Jannetty kicks the man’s fucking face in.
While Johnny Glampanado whips his fat salsiccia out and pisses.
Pisses on the man’s shitty-ass face.
This dumb hump.
The man’s face with the dog shit, all the dog’s shits in the neighborhood.
And whichever type people might be street-shitting.
Their shit too.
All the shit of the city.
All accumulated.
This limp lump.
The bottoms of souls.
Upended.
“Oh ‘HA-ha-Ha-HA-ha-HA-HA! How do you like that now, you piece’a’shit! You think it’s fuckin’ funny now? Is it fucking funny now?”
Tooting up and crowning turds.
Hind-hooves kicked behind to spread the scent.
Leavings, piled.
“NOW? NOW? NOW?”
And now, here he is.
Having owed money.
