A grove of tailless arms and legs
By / Mohsen Elbelasy / EGYPT
The scene :
The eye spews disheveled smoke
Salted mouths migrate to a red desert
We are sleeping in the saliva of a salacious hyena.
The picture is studded with matches
Leaning on a crutch,
carrying a torn bag
The burnt elephant is lying down and there is a nail between his eyebrows…….
The hunter swallows the columns of ivory and smiles…..
My wooden face splits into bodies without holes
I return to the alley of creeping owls
like a stone without a hand
To raise the signs of gelatinous rejection
I evoke all the depths of the dry prophecies
Like swimming in a pool of lard
Many soldiers shouted like cocks over my eyelids
And the babbles become swarms of locusts
flocking to my ears…..
I lick the houses covered with the Skins of the butterflies of brothels…..
I drink tar to shine the crystal between my thighs!….
I sleep in the dens of laziness to fuck a whole army of phosphoric algae that smoke cannabis and let out black smoke from its bright ass.
the sound is :
I kept all the music of the charred jungles on my tongue…..
And I stole all the bubbles of shades and shot them into the pierced valleys of my pockets.
And after certainty that the ceiling is a dictator,with
the Shackles of lepers and never heal……
And the struggle of wishes fraying like a cat falling from the sky.
After I made sure of all that,
I pierced my neck,
and cascades of fatal daggers come out from it to kill my memory……
the shape is :
Zigzag matrix of Lust and blood spots.
Snow is redder than the vagina of hate, and veins of indifference round the neck of scarlet color,
The color of horror of dying children.
The Hunger is :
A flayed mouse plays billiards with his amputated head!
The charcoal is dyed yellow.
the blood is :
Waves on a golden shores
The Scene again:
The coral reef swallowing each other
The picture is a doll
Smoke is a doll
Laziness is a scarecrow Pulsating with pent-up napalm.
The doll is just empty black air
The memory doesn’t eat the burning flags
We are without ears to eat through it
Inside the no ear, no other ear, no ear here, no, no
But in my forehead there is an eye hung
Inside this eye is another eye,
In the city of need,
all the rivers are running towards the holes of your asses.
Toward the shame of truth and the prohibition of breathing.
I am not here