Did Jesus Christ Masturbate?: A Tell-All Perspective
I don't want to write about the hills, or anything similarly convex and thick with the green of a sight-smell residue that tends to its own basic hunger. We, the politique, place calls to count each sore canker, and prop our skulls against the seventh reflection in any hall of mirrors
Proud of the grease-gleam!
Proud hands, straight as stars!
Proud of our aroma's vertical lift!
Hot tips for culture point pick-ups:
Birth yourself from a Pagan mother. Claw your way out of her, half-grown. When you're a forgotten adolescent, write your comrades about the time you shot your gun at the ticker tape reel and returned promptly to the warm breeder in your bed. Your life so far has been an upset, so why not launch an assault on angels straight from the pulpit? Just lift up your hands and let out a scream like cold steel.
There's still time. I hear in Mexico they're all happy to die. They actually pray for it. With their hands clasped together and everything. They all die laughing and rolling around in the streets.
I still feel like a child. I simply will not grow. I'm still so stupid, so patient. I still imagine that love comes from the heart. It comes from the center of the chest, like a sun. Something like a snarling delirium goring the black of infinity. Something like that.
And, yes, Jesus Christ does masturbate. I saw. I thought he was hurt, so I watched, tentatively. Yes, I've seen him do it. He seemed so wholly pleased.