Brooding Maiden and the Beast – Basilike Pappa


Ornaments, bars, neon 

and people: by their useless regrets they have colorful streets and a grazing fever

Feelings of peace and security then take over, adding them to crowds

smoking outside restaurants

bleating, masturbating –  

the orgasm like pastries sold during an execution

In the mornings sometimes I cry 

but when the night comes we fuck on slides

 –he strong, me greedy– 

in a playground 

as damned as his arms 

when he’s away

These misplaced cravings for the divine

can become as addictive as shoplifting

The clenched me, my secret burning,

urges his growling, his strength,

the feeding

We take eternity where we find it

If only I could feel the sun on his skin 

lap it up off his neck

but I can’t even fantasize

being stranded on an island with him

without imagining the whole shipwreck

so I bury my wish under the loose swings

And overthink


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Montresor/Down Vaults- Basilike Pappa

Going downstairs today on Sudden Denouement.

Sudden Denouement Collective

Montresor - Pinterest.jpg

Since I was born

I’ve been a point definitely settled

(Roses are eaten fragrant)

Was it the same with you, Montresor?

Immediate risk of disappearance?

(down vaults where the dead are)

Repressed grimaces, forced smiles,

baptised in delectatio morosa.

 (violins playing obsession).

I bet you wrote poetry once,

dreamt of being a highwayman.

(Each laughing mouth a wound)

Into that hidden maze –the lifelines on your palm–

I kept myself a secret

(down vaults where the dead are)

movement – a measure of how long

until I turn myself into

(walls between a man and the Carnival.)


a weaver of grand jests,

the echo of rich laughter.

(Down vaults where the dead are)

Us: the smirk of a god.

We grew to be nightshade,

(loose teeth in the mouth of the earth)

but roses? Never.

We were eaten fragrant.

(we’ll stay awake and play.)

So be it, Montresor:


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