Tag Archives: Antony Hitchin

Second Date ~ Antony Hitchin

Second date.  And in a few demeaning minutes I’m hard. Lights flickering seething green glass.  Our rhythms would fit.  Not like the last pitiful little shit. Leaving her alone at the bar while he slung congealed bog roll in the toilets.  As my Zen master once said:

‘the tiny can be tiring.’

His calm voice radiates present-time, shaking the dust out of my head.  She smiles radiant. Elegiac. Taking her to this budget-style franchise?  I need to beg for forgiveness.  I pull my gaze away from her breasts. Suddenly, I remember seeing a man on a TV documentary who had been castrated voluntarily.

He said he had never felt so free.

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Projections ~ Antony Hitchin

menstrual blood psyches,
bodies jpeg image bubbles burn and deliver
ugliness
projector light rays dry tan loop omens ivory
soap splashes staining junkie, a drunk’s sincerity;
they all move to
 
nothing
 
puncture weeping gods squashed,
deformed poetry, warm, micro waved loosening of
bowels,
city house pile flesh heap flecked eczema skin,
hand closing over knife, lifeless claret bleeding trails in
tiles.