Vibrate Ascension, Bringers of Light

Liturgy, Written by the Satanic Prostitute, Carnie Whore, Mistress of Night Town

Vibrate Ascension, Bringers of Light. For we are the denizens of Night Town. I am the proudest prostitute, the most cheerful flesh-peddler. Stir not the stew of broken dreams, for I am the fleshpot of survival. In what murderous universe did we stumble? The Medic-Punk Seraph guides the listening, the choking and the already-deceased. There was silence in my house.

He and She had their own secret language. For 62 years. Their god, Love, had secret names. MOST INEFFABLE NAMES. Prey to the glory of cupidity, of faithful, thrifty marriage in clean beds. Electronically, I passed him secret notes. Our own attitudinal names. No comment. No comic. This could go on forever, it would have no end, it would be as if I could love you until I died or just got fed up with you.

Flash to me in my bed again, taking clients. Oh yes, I am always a sex worker in these stories. Wonder not, my parts don’t work properly and that’s why. I am the most honorable dishonor. The most shameful abuse. Against the picture of sixty-two faithful years. I cannot stand up to that. In any era, it is too much, he said. No, I am lying to you again. All apologies. Is this all I can come up with? Your devils are untrained and entry-level these days. They are fear of no longer being able to be Middle Class. They are late credit card payments. Mine comes in a fedora and on my face.

You are no longer paying attention to my judgmental commentary

I am the vessel of the cupiditous one, for he makes us fear late rent payments
Glory be to the lowest
I am smashed appreciation and argumentation with critique and growth
Glory be to the lowest
Fuck the wings off my protecting angels
Glory be to the lowest
Who will rent me?
The hour is nigh. I am the worst, but you still want to be with me before the apocalypse.

Turn my gold into alcoholism
I am Mistress-Madam of Night Town. Close the gates, Enter ye not in here, swerve ye past sobriety checkpoints.

His peg leg was the worst thing about him. He was the most dashing one of us all. He had a voice to sing like a sweet Irish Tenor and a harmonizer in an African choir.
I am Mistress-Madam of Night Town, and I have no mirrors in my house. The most Cardinal sin.
*in which I request you to do things to me which are secret*
Get me drunk
Do that other thing you so much like and I don’t even remember.

But best, tell me “I hate you” while doing it.

6/13/13

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Gender rant: I'm not here to give you a boner and neither is anyone else.

I'm going to work this kind of like a list of extended bullet points. Hey, kids. So let's talk about a little something called gender expression. Gender expression comes in many different varieties, and has taken on different sub-labels in popular or regional culture. Some of these labels that you might know are concepts like "dyke" "femme" "twink" "tranny" and other terms. Though there doesn't seem to be an overarching consensus on whether or not certain terms are considered offensive, partially due to the culture of term reappropriation in recent years (for instance, affectionately or cattily using the term "fag" within the gay male community), mainstream culture has adopted some terms and concepts as shorthand for certain gendered lifestyles. I argue this- No one should be unfairly reduced to their gender expression by anyone else. I believe that it is unfair to assume that someone considered to adopt a more convent...
Read more

Pop Culture Nation-A Recovered Memory of Cherished Treasures

Sometime between 2004 and Spring of 2006, I forcefully slammed a very large shoebox full of cassette tapes into the garbage can at my mother's house. You don't understand. Not just original cassette tapes. Mix tapes. During the peak hipster era of High Fidelity and Say Anything (much older, because yes we were already rehashing nostalgia), I committed a high crime against art and Xennial self-determination. I remember neither the context of the conflict, nor why I desired so strongly to sabotage myself. Was it later than then? Had I moved out again? Was it closer to 2008? I couldn't tell you. But I knew I was on one of my decluttering kicks. Inasmuch as I am messy and allow things to pile up (hopefully not to a hoarderly level) I have also gotten on occasionally forceful kicks of throwing my possessions away. Mostly because they reminded me of a part of myself that was over. Around this same time I think I dumped all the handwritten letters between me and beloved friends be...
Read more

Dream Brother

Twin seeds, planted in one long planter. Soon, a large landmass would stand between us. I wish I hadn't absorbed, from somewhere, that only the coasts mattered. And here we are. So much between us, including life & water under the bridge. I miss New York but I'm not built to root there. Just to visit. I think there was a time in my life when going there could've propelled me. They would've "gotten" what I was doing. But that was a small window of time. Now it's over. So much similar between us but so many parts of us different. And yet so much in common too. It feels like long ago but hey, obvious why we were pretty much "The Crayons" together. The queers in the 'burbs claw in the dark to find each other. Our absurd reads, endless summers and maybe the mystery trousers left in my trunk. Beach days, then you moved out right after we graduated. Things got tangible quickly. We did grownup things at 18 in a state where you didn't have to...
Read more