CHILDREN FOR SALE
The boat is hauled up onto the beach. The force used on the winch handle, winding the rusted but greased
The artist
The boat is hauled up onto the beach. The force used on the winch handle, winding the rusted but greased
Teeming life picked out an instant of harmony from dissonance and this choir sang hoarsely and rhymed and reasoned for
In “The Cellar”, an underground cinema on Duke Street, near the centre of the universe. Background Radiation. Radio Dust.
Backed into a little boy’s bedroom corner. Hugging my knees. Rocking slowly back and forth. Always looked over my shoulder.
“He hurt me mother. He hurt me with what he did and what he said. He really really hurt me.”
Arthur Lovich, but I have them call me Love. Neat, right? Love? Honesty time, Kids! I’m a nobody in this
Her name’s Mary. Good damned Christian name that. Mother of God. I go to Church. Sometimes. More action in the
Continue readingTHE TORTURER AND THE TORTURED, (ABUSE, PART THREE)
I think all these people see through me. I’ve become some kind of ghost or something. I don’t know, but
Continue readingTHE TORTURED, (ABUSE, PART FOUR, THE MOBBED)