The moving finger probes, and having probed,
Moves on: nor all thy cunt juice nor marks of shit,
Shall lure the diaper back to be worn again,
Nor all thy tears wash out the smell of it.
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I dreamt that my mother was singing me to sleep, as her gentle touch caressed me. I awoke in the dark. Somewhere I could here the drone of voices from a distant TV. After some time, it got switched off and someone closed a door. I am alone.
The Lord believes that I have a greater purpose. But still he makes me take the piss, shit and sperm of porn. In his delution he thinks that I’ll find some sort of salvation through my suffering. He is wrong.
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Whilst working today, I happened to catch a glimpse of the models face.And apart from the obvious smeared make up and semen, the most striking and shocking feature was her dead eyes. And then I realized that I’d seen this on almost all the models I’d ever worked with. Eyes that have seen the unspeakable and so are unable to speak. Of pain, worthlessness and degredation. Though outwardly smiling, those inner turmoils come shining through. I am at one with them. Our journey down the same road, proves we belong together. Their very sadness lightnens my soul.
A naked woman is running. Her breast wobble and bounce. She’s covered in sweat.Round she goes. The race track stretches out infront of her like those long straight roads we see in American road trips movies. Another naked woman is waiting ahead. looking down I see that the runners feet are slowing. then I am thrust forwards to the waiting woman. I am the baton, the diaper baton. And now we are leaving the panting woman, bent over, hands on her knees. Another waits ahead of this one. My never ending life cycle.
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The soothing voice of my mother wafts over me. She tells of her undying love for me. I feel her warm touch. I am her beautiful child. She promises never to leave me again. She starts to cry. My eyes well up. Through her quiet sobing she mumbles ofthe pain of seperation and talk of when we can be together forever. And then….she cals me “George”. Errrr, I’m a little taken aback. Then I feel her hand inside me. I can smell old pussy. Through the gap I spy an old woman masturbating to te photo of her dead son. There is no God. 
“Does heaven wait, all heanly, over the next horizon”
Prefab Sprout
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I lie open under a clear blue sky. Looking this way I can see the trees gently swaying in the breeze. But looking that way, my veiw is blocked by some sort of metal wall. There comes an awful smell from beneath. Gradually it dawns on me that I’m in a trash can. And, just as I’m trying to fathom the meaning in all of this, a dirty hand reaches down and pulls me out. There is an overwhelming smell of shit and alchohol. The ugly face of a homeless tramp is suddenly thrust into my body. I can feel his stubble. And then his tongue. Peering down, I see him jerking himself off. And so I die for the sins of Christ.
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