Necrophilic Writing by Sin

[Dept of PMM Artists & things]

One of my favorite prolific writers, the Marquis de Sade often wrote about necrophilia, and carving new orifices to fuck.  Some chalk it up to his sexual deviance and his need to provoke the local authorities that wished to stifle him.

Read it yourself. There is a far deeper meaning in the texts. 

Amazon has a (2) volume set of the Marquis complete works translated from French to English.

Personally, I love how they managed to squeeze it in the film QUILLS:

Quills Script here:
http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/q/quills-script-transcri...


The Marquis, often inspires my writing.  I'm often amused at the responses I get to my writing, yes it's abstract - but people don't seem to put a lot of thought into what they are reading.  They mostly take things at face value.  I believe the same applies to the mad rantings of the grande Marquis.




Carving
An original poem, by SIN

It's cold to the touch, but I need it.

It's soft, wet, my hands full...I beat it.

I see my eyes in the blade, and I smile.

It's been far too long, it's been a while.

Carving, my image inside of you.

Carving, my legacy, my truth.

It's dripping now, down my arms.

It's cold, it's sticky, but don't be alarmed.

I feel alive, while you are dead.

Freedom for me, nothing for you but dread.

Carving, slabs of you for me.

Carving, a meal, my vitality.

It's in my hands, above the light...

It's inches from my lips, into the night.

I covet thee, oh flesh and bone.

I am the creator...me alone.

Carving, it's way down my throat.

Carving, myself afloat.

Into the abyss, I go.

It's in me now, it's ebb and flow.

I am it's destruction, and it's rebirth.

Together decomposing, into the earth.

Carving, carving its way inside.

Carving, it's way alive.

It's you...it's me...flesh and bone.

It's us, together...we are home.