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Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6 Forced Dream Journal V
Date: Wed, 16 Aug 2000 15:10:25 -0400
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From TxM6 Taxi Murders Sextet Hyperfiction Novel
http://www.taximurders.com/ (updated August 13, 2000)
1036XDream
Laurie Catherine Fallon's Prurient, Hungry 'Words'
Free Association
"Memory is the Voyeur ..."
Laurie Fallon:
June 15, 1992 (Day Before Child Birth)
Must be Sunday, I heard church bells ringing. Waited through
the night waking from euphoria, fed ecstasy and Quaaludes,
mixed with brownies made of hash, I wish I could see myself.
I feel it. Underpants drawn up, split by pubes, red from the
mixture of piss head and presumed fondling.
Did I do it to myself? My children sleep. Not here at least.
I left them with my mother. Helene will take care. Am I in
prison, drugged out of death, and if I die what will happen
to them. Press down. My belly is tight.
This child will be born soon. Sleep little unborn child. Rest
inside in the hidden curves. What have I done now? Drugged
out of death and put in prison. What if I die later, or now,
when they will be older, I will not see them. They will not
be present. I left them with my mother. Helene will watch
them. Sheila's here too. Quiet. Do not tell them we are two.
She is here inside my hands. Feel as I press her cunt open.
So much older, I will watch her. Laurie held up now, as I
stand and name pleasure at another edge. Inverted darker
shadows, and now that is the meat between my cunt and
fingertips. This box sucks I know I can reach through the
walls naming what pleasure on its edge, inverted like dark
shadows and that meat between your cunt, when you hate the
man, and the goodness is still. I felt Sheila's reluctant ass
and mechanical orgasm rocking down the walls, and making the
TV blur as if the images were too ordinary for God; forget
common sacrifices as denied flesh; spirits as we assault joy
we need to keep. I would never do it. I am not Sheila
although I know I told them I would be here sometimes. Not,
now though At six foot, seven months pregnant, I am Laurie,
beautiful like an angel, with child. I have two other
children, Kimberly, my niece. She is the daughter of my other
half Sheila. She calls me Aunt. I could not really be Shelia
as well as Laurie.
Kimberly is almost nine. She reads all the time. She will be
tall like me and not shorter like her mother, Sheila. Well,
she is shorter. Sheila is. No, she cannot be if I am she. I
told you I am not she. I am outside. My niece Kimberly is a
graceful dancer like her mother, and not a clumsy fool like
me. See, I am not Sheila. She is the only one who knows how
much I want to walk the street and say, on one hand I am this
or that. I am a graceful dancer when I feel the push of his
hands on the back of my head. I know he is coming around with
that witch; he calls her Lilith. The bitch fingers me and
pats my stomach. I spit at her in my mind. Sheila tells me
her secrets. She likes to take it up the ass, so she must be
male, Sheila says, and I dismiss Sheila, who can be wise
about so many things but not this one. Let me gather my
urchins. Don't you see the kids? Let me gather them from God
and bring them out into the open. How many days have I been
here I ask Sheila who is standing next to the wall, playing
with her cunt. I know it is sore, I tell her, but she
continues to be mesmerized and I follow her losing myself in
that distant scream. Scream I tell her. Scream motherfuckers.
Do not let them keep you inside the box with those shits. I
will not let you cut up my cunt. I will not be dissected. You
have your movies. Leave me alone, I thought. I looked at the
inside of my face. I am beautiful, I thought, why would you
want to hurt that, and I realized he didn't. Beauty is his
God too. Maybe I can. What live? Such a darker boundary. She
was dead. You told me no. I saw she was dead. I will not be
able to stand being cut up and be alive. Sheila what the fuck
did we do to deserve this. How can they. Shit. Nothing we do
matters. I know Laurie. Not here. Please. You have to be
here, Sheila. Listen Mr. (Maybe if I am nice) you do not know
my sister, Sheila. She teaches college. She's not like me a
fucken slut who has sucked dick for cash. No, she's a good
woman. Stop punishing her. Please. Look at her. Can's you
tell the difference. She is shorter and older. I am tall; she
is half a food shorter. We had different fathers. My Dad,
fucken shit, was that poet Huw. She had a nice father. A cop
no less. Fucked up Helene long time ago. He wanted to marry
her, Mama said. She didn't. I asked Mama. Was he married? No,
he was. I didn't want to marry anyone then. I wanted to go to
school. I moved to Gainesville. Had some money from my
grandparents stashed away. Only use it for College, so I took
off. Not enough really. Had to work slinging hash. That is
where I met that fuck Billy. Mama came into my head every
day. I saw her. She would pat my head. You need to know more.
I know. Have I told you about Sheila? She is older. Fuck. The
bitch is here. I heard the fuck has children. Haven't seen
them. I heard her talking to her brother. Calls her Lilith.
She calls him Adam or Cain. Sometimes confuses the names. I
can't stand these ropes anymore. Lilith. Fucken cunt, let me
get out of here. I have kids. Who will take care of them? No
matter what I said, nothing happened. That bitch that keeps
me here. She talks some time. Mostly she likes to make me
cringe. Fucking with my cunt. I let her. Tied my damn hands!
If I go a long, she says, and I relax and then she ties the
knots tighter. I met one of her kids. A nasty looking boy one
day. The Man she called Abel walked into the room, and really
did not notice me. He seemed fucken normal. She told me he
was a doctor. Locking the door, she told me to get up on the
table, and that he was going to make sure the baby was ok?
Relax she said. He's a Dr. She seemed fucken normal now, too,
and he did it easy check my heart, had me piss, took blood,
check my uterus. He was gentle. After he left, Lilith said,
you know he fucks me. Yes, so what You are a nasty cunt. She
pulled my hair, throwing me off the table, and I landed on
the floor on my tied hands. It felt like my hands were
broken. Pulled me up by the ropes. Suddenly, she pulls a
picture out of her kids gathering around her Abel. He's my
brother. Fucked up. She laughed. They all seem fucken normal.
Sit, and listen, she said. Playing with my breasts, she
talked. Rubbing the same spot, I felt like my skin would wear
off. Say nothing, she screamed. My kids are god's children,
she said. I am not Christ, you are. That is why we chose you.
Abel wanted a woman to bear the next Christ. The child you
will carry, not the one you carry now. I told him to kill it;
no, do not worry, we won't. Be good. Follow orders and the
fucken suckling will live. Then you will fuck God and that
Kid will be the next Christ. See how neat that is, and in the
meantime, I will make you happy like you never have been.
Don't worry, I will give you my brother, occasionally, I know
you like dick too much. Lilith said all of this, and I felt
normal, it seemed. I remember the scars on her fingertips.
Terrible. See that tree, Lilith pointed. That one in the
middle of the yard. Imagine nursing God under it. I felt my
breast after she was done. How I love to have them sucked,
but each touch of that witch is like sandpaper. She has
smooth fingers. I see that. I nursed daughter Myrrh, my first
child for twenty months. I felt sore then at times, but this
feels like death is attached to them. That is all she touches
(except her self). She sticks her fingers in her pants and
fingers her own cunt getting quickly out of breath She is not
ugly. I find that hard to believe. She is not young almost 40
I expect. Sometimes, I wonder why they insist that I write.
She says they want me to know how I feel. They said dogs
would rape me if I do not write. So, I write under duress,
but then I am enjoying it. She laughs sometimes at nothing it
seems when she is touching me. What, I said, and she would
make a face and squeeze. One day when I was there, it seemed
forever. Must have been at least a month, she brings out the
nursing machine. I want you to see what will happen when you
whelp the brat Can I keep it, I plead. Then realizing how
selfish. Please let me go. You cannot keep me here forever.
She laughed when I said that, and when I complained, she fed
me less, and tied the ropes harder, and fastened me to the
table by chain. What kind of dog are you. The next day she
fed me dog food. I spat it at her. She walked out and I felt
like my mouth would dry. Are you ready to be good? Yes, I
said. I ate the dog food. It tasted like rotten hash. Don't
worry. We do not want you sick. I really wondered why they
kept me alive. When I asked her, she would tie me up, or
forget the water. Pee in the hospital pan, she said. She held
it. I had to ring this bell to get food, water or relief.
Abel sometimes would pet my hair while he fed me calling me
his special bitch. I got used to peeing for him. Shit in your
pants. Pee there or be good. I felt like I never would get
out of the stink. Sometimes I would listen to them argue (not
about me) but about the ordinary details of life. I got the
feeling I was in a cage, and that cage was in her their
house, and that as Abel said once, when he checked me out,
that the baby was fine, and if I let him, what, You want a
fucken blowjob I screamed. Quiet, he said. Lilith will be
jealous Sure, I said, but be careful, I might bite it off. He
looked at me and laughed. No, you won't. If you did, I would.
No, you will not. Fuck him, I remember nursing again. How can
I not. Milk machine attached when they know I can't. Get used
to it. MY tits are elastic. I nursed a girl friend's daughter
for her and mine when she was sick. I love sharing the
splendor of reproductive spirals. I always have. Did they
sense that about me when they stalked me? I heard him tell
that she was worth the wait. One day, after Lilith played tit
games, I imagined Abel doing it. Would he hurt or be gentler.
I wanted his hands tangled in my boobs. He spoke softly. His
finger pressed against my nest. When he opens me, examining
the fundus, he called it, telling how my child was his. Don't
tell Lilith, he said. He seems like a real Doctor. You know
how they pretend to treat your cunt like a thing, but then
not really. There is always an extra touch. Gentleness
catches you in the sensations. You are trapped by pleasure, I
thought afterwards. I dreamed last night that I twisted and
twisted out of their sight and hands. MY tits are sore, I
screamed. I lounge in the bed keeping alive, twisting my
genitals out of the reach, as Abel and Lilith move through
the imaginary bars of my old fashioned and modern cell,
snapping like turtles making the nipples bleed after too long
a treatment as they called it. I cannot stand it. I will not
make it. I never cried. I never cried when a man left, I was
alone, or I had to suck cock for bread, I never cried. I
cried. I was hungry sore, thirsty. They fed me. Kept me
healthy. I had to eat when they said eat. I had to pee when
they said pee. Ant Lilith watched me eat, sleep, pee, shit,
and never let go of my nipples. Making them hard or sore.
Once, when I was half asleep, playing with my cunt, I felt a
second of pleasure, and it was like an oasis. You know I
watched this girl fuck a guy she claimed was her father. I
came home, and thinking she was fucking a trick, I left. No,
she said, come inside, and there she was sucking his cock.
This is my father, she said. I know I was hallucinating. I
watched. She called him Laddie. He called her Lass. Later she
told me that he was a Minister back home. He never touched
her there. Mother disciplined me. He seemed afraid then. He
came up here last year looking for me, and I told him why I
left. You didn't love me I said. You never spoke. Now, do
what you want with me. If you don't, I tell Mama that you
did. I fucked him up, she said, and laughed. While she
fucked, inside the cell with Abel and Lilith now, I wished I
was there watching her again. I was fascinated. Pretend I am
a God, she told him. You are doing God's work, Daddy, she
squealed. At that moment, I became a God, looking around the
room where I was tied and bound. I am a God in creation
(where the melon splits) about to step cross the pink seeded,
twinned clouds, a full belly woman in arms, tumbling blind
horse through that gray grass pasture, where the lift up,
can't forget the ache, the painful rest of story, was what
memory contrived when life was ordinary. Isn't that my job,
my escape to make life less ordinary, but what is violence
but ordinary diffusion of greed throughout the universal
share of night as I learned reading the text of Abel's book,
his bible he called it, and then I extrapolated new text from
the book of Sheila as I became. I wanted to be her. I am she,
I imagined. I am my sister, and the power of her wit. I did
not kill her. She lived. What can I know I thought writing
the words down clearly in the indelible memory. Later, I
asked her if it were true. Shit no, she said. Just a John.
Next time he wants to do you. I was never sure. She
disappeared to Vegas or California. The John showed up at the
bar a few weeks later. I fucked him. Asked him if he like
anything special, willing to play with him. He cried when he
came, petting my head. Saying he was sorry, calling me
Rachel. That is my wife's name, he said. Sure, it's not your
daughter? No, her name is Anne Do you know Anne? I cannot
find her anymore. Anne was the name of my roommate. I
imagined that this old fuck in his thousand dollar suits was
her father after all, and that is why she left. I never knew.
I did like pretending. I can do that. Like here. Yes, I was
sold shit. I know that now. I tried not to believe. I really
did. I wanted to be out of there, away from it all. What is
the best way to fight? Eventually, we wound up in a big bed.
He did her and I did him, and then we did each other and he
sucked while I played. I was lost in all of it. I couldn't
find the boundary. You like this great movie plot. More about
TV soap operas down the page. -Where's the credits opening or
otherwise? I felt swollen. At seven months I figured, I was
blooming like a double scoop of lemon and pineapple. I was
the object of love for the TV fans. Kidnap, rape, murder,
mayhem. American participation sports. No arguments here. We
have any honest perspective to walk along and not have
thought police making it all up at worst. My captors (the
handsome seal and domestic cow) fussed over my ass. Was I
their child? Could they be prosecuted for child abuse? They
treated me like a child. Could I become the raped saint? See,
my feet are high in the stirrups. His hand descends like God
and scoops me out. So, it felt at the time. Can someone be
raped by the mind alone? I will live it again. Easy perhaps.
Sucked so many strange cocks. They all tasted like pee. Rape
my mind. I raped my mind, I thought. What if I screamed in
the fucker's faces? He let me drink. He fed me. He fucked me
under the water pipes, finally, and then I felt at least
used. I realized I would eat my own shit to keep alive. No
mercy here. Make no mistake. There is guile, and beastly
errors. Lilith and that ardent Adam gone sour will make them.
Sometimes, I hear Lilith call him Adam as first man or made
of God. You are my child. I am more than mother. I am your
mate, creator, and watch how we carve the figures from our
trance. I heard this and I smiled. Who did you see in the
sky, I imagined, and then I asked the real Adam in a dream?
Adam is another name for Abel. Almost a joke. How do we know
the difference, I wondered. What is the difference between a
benign god and a corrupt one? They all steal your mind. How
can I resign the Garden of Eden? What absurd thoughts,
trapped naked in this wooden jail. Rooms. Not cells. Fancy
beds, good furniture. Locks, closets, toys, games, computers,
laser CD ROM, printers and other artifacts of VCR world, TV
film and the majestic sunrise seen on an old single super 8
film. I gave them my warmth, food, silently while that man
and his sister, as he calls her self, Lilith the proud, my
legs bound with harsh, gray rawhide rope; my hands
constrained by moral reluctance; involved in this crime
(already felt responsible) I fumbled, falsely moved, reaching
Lilith, snuggling with her, half conscious. She put her arm
around me, seemed tender, and then she slowly ran her hands
down my thigh, and like a bitch, I rolled on my back and
opened my cunt for her fingering. She cried. I felt like a
child under her hand. I felt the scratch of her rough shirt
against my arm. She fed me her breasts, and they were wet,
filled with milk. I suckled and she pinched my nipples,
hurting them when I sucked too hard. I could not help myself.
I felt like the flesh inside the island. She caught my
warmth, and when Abel came into the room, I slept between
them. I am so intimate with my sexual pea. I feel it. Bear it
open. Split asunder; I am sexual against my will. Later, I
would seek more than my own ministrations when Abel or his
sister chooses to sleep. I remember how his cock felt the
first time Abel fucked me. Lilith was there -- holding my
head. He came behind me and fucked between my legs first, and
then entered my cunt slowly while they fingered my tits. We
lived in this maze until the baby was born, and then while I
was sick, they took another woman, like me, and murdered her
while I watched. I turned away. No one would believe it was
me. Lucky, you are alive. I am. How are human beings jails
unto themselves? Don't we have enough fun with our future
forward, pushes that dial past into concrete speculations:
Norse Gods lit; their goose neck cocks fumbled for population
management to be truly absurd. Makes rape and fucking almost
the art of duty; life blends its ardor with crime and
violence, almost as an afterthought I remember this guy who
slapped my ass, when we fucked, and I loved that art and the
duty we extend to certain brethren. Yes, I will speculate on
my unkempt canvas. Given Life, almost taxis ride home, inside
to the gut, to that holy fucking when you are in the groove.
It helps to think of good sex. I hope that I play inside
these nocturnal digressions when I am caught inside the
folding and unfolding words when I saw that I would escape
somehow. No art would suffice, I suppose, and the spray of
food, and then that relaxation without justification took us,
almost unawares. At first, I am blind. I know it is her. I
smell the skin. Why can't I touch her, should I, can I at
least reach where she will know I have been1. Inside my
thighs, I felt wet hands tease against my neck, twisted down,
my new born will be taken from Kimberly's taken from the
stages of my bodies, hysterical, I imagined. No, she is not
crying but flooded with that augury; death has its own rot.
Why are we so unabashedly rude? We all feel that terror,
which is that window death, turns. Revenge for living. I
should be happy I am alive after holy torment. Death,
extinction would not help. Would I trade my life for escape?
No. I am too selfish and curious. Nothing's new! Why does
Lilith move so gently when she harbors murder? Sliding back
into her doorway, she shows her ass, then tits, utters
really, showing off, and I am easily disturbed, as if terror,
one blank exchange, as a magic act, a done deal, artful and
dangerous. -Lilith taunts. OK? (Spoken as a series of short
burst automatic weapon) -Sheila, my sister is OK. Is she now,
I feel Sheila move inside my hands. I'm trying to be simple,
act normal. -What do we see from even mannered perspective? -
Murder has no modicum of intelligence. -Not expecting
solutions. I repeat subtle answers. -One more time. Lilith
said yes. Why do I care? I do. After all she is human. K' -I
can't follow the nighttime inside the hoods, insensitive to
hue or the scratch of texture against cunt. When we were
taken, I could hear the streaks of pain and Laurie me
pulling, struggling, when I was subdued, one day Contained in
the van, I screamed forcing the struggles lower to drag my
knees, arms caught. I can't move, Laurie shook the walls,
banging again, and then we stop. Silence. My head is blown.
Crushed. So it felt. Do you love your child, Abel's Lilith;
born Maria-Theresa spoke slowly (I Learned later), pushing
children against my covered face. Listen, stop screaming,
Lilith gently stroked my face, pinching my nipple again.
Stop, she asserted, speaking like a first grade teacher,
insensible, or I would kill your unborn she said, smiling,
playing with my hair pushing it back from my face, uncovering
my eyes, then fondling my sex, as she obviously, turned on,
wanted more pleasure, milking her own tits with her delight.
1 Such an abstract elegy. What is this daylight, pulled out
of the hood against the black wall I unfounded?
More American Adventures in erotica and other works by Sean Farragher:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sean_Farragher/
Sean Farragher
Poetry Site: http://www.farragher.com (updated 8/13/2000)
TxM6 Sites:
http://www.taximurders.com
http://www.taximurders.com/enfer
http://www.taximurders.com/lcfallon
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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