Jeter Des Fleurs
Novel #2A -- Monstre Sacré. Done?!
Florify, Mortify and Glorify
LuLu at Niagara Falls. Luna Island. Scruff of headland overlooking roaring rush of Falls.
Silence under loud crash of the Falls is vivid.
Silent voices are vivid. Something in LuLu, always trying to escape, leaping for freedom in heart of hearts where emptiness soars into action (and fighting factions), glows flows, bades raids.
Tremulous for the “risen” to escape. Songs of desire. Love comes for her soul. Steals her away.
Guttiform wisps drop in, launch yearnings forebodings cosmologies. Dancing in the dark, love fervors. LuLu has bad habit of giving into it, her spirit takes off after — furtive and brazen.
The force of it on her body electrophiles black birds raven and crow. Meanwhile guilt rages with distrust. Meanwhile juxtaposes a plum wild glorious sweetness. That grows and blows, flirty brutal and incandescent.
Love for Victor, molts into awe-stricken jolts of exhilaration and envy, a supreme covetousness for his something something unknown.
And yet more and more, LuLu’s captivation becomes mournfully transfixed. Sinking like quicksand into registers of the divine (mapping lapping and sapping, the divine).
Toppling treacherously into a shining. Sex, love and restlessness. Wanting in.
Lifts and Grifts
What it is. And what it is not.
Its florally morally disquieting. Fuck all. LuLu is shocked into the shit house with love. LuLu be still be still be still...
The hidebounds start flogging.
Grinding winding around the glue of sacred mystic sacrificial restrictives covenanting cunt and crow, twisting her curious flurry-ous hunt cunt perversity of nature with predation and purity.
Fear drips with the freedoms of suicide, sin shaking at its escapology, scorns and porns of desire, gloat and glam with fervor and tyranny.
Trying to buy time. Find a way. Stuck in its flair eating air.
Crawlintobedwith… Sometimes agree then reneg reneg reneg. Assassins in love, fight back against history of the mystery.
Longing. Murder or castaway… Running from the tedium of existence… Love, a thing caught between sides, in a war between revelation and time as a tyranny ? She is lonely for it. Pops up again. Victor pops up again. Why because why because no answer just is fizz whizz laz the liz. Angelic grifts…
LuLu’s plura forma, after his love pirate. Tops up again. Tire on a wire. The fire and ire, the mire and spire… Ambles gambles for transit, in a gulp and a leap for his skin, his treasure his black beret his ankle socks and laughing griping taffying over its sin.
No… Go, go find Victor. Wind buzzing through her hair.
That’s what transforms her. Gusts of his license. Swells in her feathers, with impish potency and desire. Strange shocking rains attain a ripe florid blasphemy. Mixing with cities of hate smothered into her pillow, all the many merry hand drew, whiplashes with death and dread horror bravado —
Still how it burns yearns takes turns, how she swerves at Victor's prodigy.
Hallowing spin, slip and slides into a dodgy wager, of ills fills and wills.
Splendor and terror collide, unholy desire mocking death, avenging death, foreshadowing death… Tandem with why why why.
Ravish and jolt, the blue birds fly.
Riders of the storm ?
A worm in the bush… Assassin bug carrying dead on back in a dune of darkness. Beautiful terrors filling the void.
What the fuck is happening ? LuLu’s soul expands around Victor, numbers run up the garden hose and lifts, mystic grasps implode.
Give in to it go over to it find it let it in. Splash crash menaces flash.
LuLu falls catches falls catches falls, flips falls flies. Clings. Walls closing in. With hunger and sorrow, plighters fighters blighters. Kkkkkatey and the kite. Taming of the flaming ?
Let out get out, a roving band of drastic sarcastic inelastics, fall out of their barricade. Like a circus buried in ancient ransoms. Rattling at her skull, nettles up her spine, snake turret charms.
She hears it in the wind as she walks. A melancholic frolic, hits the bends. Saddled with crazy lovely purists, the indubitables ? feasting on treasure license license…
Her love for him is wily secretive curious. Sneaking under the fence. At night its sting blows into an astonishing amorality, races with graces, opens executioners to their desire and then its bloody sacrifice… Shame and silence.
At edge of tongue it rubs grubs slubs… Pierces nipple.
A lark nest of plunder devolving into monsters, whiplash awoken by rivers of sun.
Kiss the moon spoon loon
Fly cry try! try again try again try again —
Fey lures and the fails quails, shovels and pails.
Her neck caught on a peg turns her into a merciless wallflower ? And its mystery conundrum… That’s why she loves him ?
Desire so over the top and hungry underneath, it rains flames in the harrows of Spain and pains of the forbidden and grotesque.
Falling into the fallen, sacrificial with death…
Shell la belle a mermaid from hell ? Surrender surrender. Curses ! Fuck the noble quixotic, what love cannot triumph over.
Gods be dead lead. Diddly for the divine. Sacred sweet and diddly piddly, raw with pride, fairy berry and gruesome —
Devout as hell. Hell is a devotion ?
Down comes the hammer. Fuck off or fuck. LuLu thinks, well, he could fuck me out of revenge.
LuLu thinks of him in the smallest of things. His pants. His socks. Home body farty…
The fault lies elsewhere. In the trees of Glen Bolcane. In the monstrous and the wary. Shit glows. But it glows ! Moons runes lunes, flooding over Miami, treacherous gods of laughter, steal a fuck laughter…
Madness and the Malingering
Manufacturing district. With boarded up empty lots.
Mad guy on the corner yelling at a padlock. Fixed to sheet lumber and painted green.
Loss and madness sadness starts beating in her heart, the over and over succumbs to pride invested in sin of mind reading, transubstantial with his.
Curses are bewitching cunning ruthless... Competing defeating beatings… The skitz…
Inhaling through her skin, dear rod in his god, what’s the paradox. Inventory of the innovatory, tender are the hopeless.
She liked how they hung on him with grace of abandon. Mad guy’s dark blue baggy pants, belly over knotted waistband, low on hips. Black thick hair growing wiry. Brittle beige checkered sweater shellacked in bountiful dust, meanwhile arguing hysterically with his wall. He was letting her have it.
Get to money get to work.
How she hates. How she loves…
Dark side of moon.
LuL feels dwarfed by its calling, the falling, into negative space. Deliriously monstrous gloom gloating floating down into her sticky flickering knickers. The madman’s wife, an awareness suddenly. Its beauty hungry for him, her death merciless.
Get off bees get off…