Thursday Jun 27, 2002

0
We came across these words spoken by Hassan I Sabbah, Sheikh of the Mountains and leader of the Assassins: "Nothing is true, everything is permitted." Inspired, we bought chicken blood, a Hand of Glory and a pocketful of Goofer Dust with us on our grade school trip to the Museum of Natural History. Our boldest and most skilled practitioner of the black arts, Courtney Anne...
Read More
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
saintgomi:

gomiboy died for your sins.
saintgomi lives.

zombiehead2:

i like your website. i haven't gone through it all yet, but what i've seen is very cool.

Sunday Jun 23, 2002

0
(I wrote this a long time ago for a girl who wanted to run away with the circus.)


Blue watched the trapeze artists and decided to run away with the circus. When she offered her services to the pale, monocled ringmaster, he spoke in a languorous eastern European voice, "Can you do anything?" Blue looked away. She couldn't think of anything she could do...
Read More

Sunday Jun 23, 2002

0
<I wrote this a while ago for a girl with a circus fetish.>


Blue watched the trapeze artists and decided to run away with the circus. When she offered her services to the pale, monocled ringmaster, he spoke in a languorous eastern European voice, "Can you do anything?" Blue looked away. She couldn't think of anything she could do. She went home in the...
Read More

Friday Jun 21, 2002

0
LIQUID LATEX
I love your skin, but it's not enough. When I look at your back, it's an opaque wall enclosing some desperate mystery. I want to know what's at the core of you, the secret truth buried among your organs. I want to tear through that blank expanse of skin to uncover the revelation of your muscles and lymph glands, your...
Read More
h3athrow:

Do you read Skin Two regularly?

gomiboy:

i used to. now i only come acros it sporadically.
any reason you ask?

Tuesday Jun 18, 2002

0
DREAM TRASH

The god habit is hard to kick. We do mounds of Jesus Dust off squares of foil, inhaling curls of white smoke through thin bone tubes. We're down in the black water. Down in the dead, salt tide. Low as a soul can go and keep this sack of skin intact. It's better here. The Jesus Dust lifts you on white...
Read More

Saturday Jun 15, 2002

0
Hot Rod Haiku

Metalflake baby
You rattle my piston rods
In those Mary-Janes

Saturday Jun 15, 2002

0
The machineries of hell churn. Sluice gates empty into clotted black rivers of animal fat and liquid sulfur. Massive pig iron grinders pulverize bones for the peculiar pale, brittle bricks used in the buildings and streets of hell. But the brickworks themselves are empty. Oil pressed from the few remaining skins of the damned is used to lube the gargantuan machines (hell is, after all...
Read More
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
gomiboy:

ha!

dia:

my sentiments exactly *smirk*...

Thursday Jun 13, 2002

0
CONCRETE BOUQUET

He's in love, but doesn't have the words to express it or the courage to say it. He smiles at his love. He buys her presents. He takes her to the most expensive dinners he can afford. She cares for him, he knows. She has no problem saying or expressing it. Now she's waiting for something. She's waiting for...
Read More
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
dia:

Your birthday is the day after mine.

dia:

Your writing is so lush; lots of potential, kid (smirk)... that's just exquisite, my boy.

Wednesday Jun 12, 2002

0
CRASH KISS

Imagine a kiss. First there's the animal awareness of another person's heat and breath near your face. Then the collision of lips. What do they feel like? Are they rough? Soft? Chapped from the sun? Noses brush against each and cheeks collide. Tongues move into aliens mouths, wanting to explore this new terrain of desire. Hands are useful, too. They can...
Read More

Tuesday Jun 11, 2002

0
Louis tried to kill himself this afternoon. He didn't die, and now everything is even weirder than before. For as long as he could remember, people had told him that life was a gift. His minister, his mother, that hippie chick he used to bang because she always had great X. "Life," they told him, "is a miracle, our only clue to the existence...
Read More
lola:

gomi, your writing is *so good*! It makes me wish I had not forgotten the stack of books you gave me at your party. I guess I'll just have to read all your stuff online!

Sunday Jun 09, 2002

0
DRY DREAM

Frank awoke one morning with a hardon. Literally. Sometime during the night, his penis had turned into a dangling oblong of mottled pink marble. In the years that followed, Frank was studied and feted, invited on talk shows, written up in medical journals, Vanity Fair and People magazine. Frank, who had never quite gotten the hang of attracting the opposite sex, now found...
Read More
fernmonkey:

Nifty artwork, matey. Like the website too.