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Subject: {ASSM} From TxM6 Liana III  Photographs from Imaginary Dead
Date: Wed, 20 Sep 2000 06:10:01 -0400
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Also From TxM6 Hyperfiction
http://www.txm6.com (updated 9/16/00)
http://www.txm6.com/enfer (updated 9/17/00)
http://www.txm6.com/lcfallon
http://www.farragher.com  (Poetry updated 9/14/00)

TxM6 is entirely a work of fiction for adults only.
Copyright (c) 2000 Sean Farragher.

0918XPhotos0498x.htm
Photographs from the Imaginary Dead

Liana Juliana Fasciano
Wednesday, May 8, 1991

Liana smiles at no one. It was as if she is a romantic
photograph became the old fashioned movie.

When Liana leaned into Henry's cab window to request
another free ride, she looked and felt like a movie
star. Henry didn't recognize her instantly, and Liana
was crushed. Henry smiled at Liana, after she said
nothing, and began the discussion that became that one
question that defines the boundaries of nature.

"What is reality," the Gadfly, almost a spirit asked
interjecting into this swirl of voices.

"There is no reality," the Gadfly answered himself.
"Everything is fantasy. That's Liana's true epitaph
after all. "

"Write it down, Henry," the Gadfly spoke carefully. "I
care," he added.

"How can I drive Liana from drug den to drug den and
not shake her by the shoulders turn her normal death
rattle into life. I want to sing the Messiah, dance
with George Chisholm and then shout to him, you're all
fucken dead, Darlings."

"Liana. You have a chance. Rise up announce your
creed. Why are you tied up, bound, left to die beside
the dirty road? Settle down on the bare street,
dearest; your bleached white ribs and soft round
breasts will be picked clean, deformed."

Another plan: when someone doesn't respond to your
honest attempt to wake them up, can you force them to
care. No, that would tarnish the skin, make the
artwork dingy

Playing Igor F dorovich Stravinsky (1882-1971) Fire
Bird Suite on his CD, Henry blasted Liana's voice and
music across the Meadowlands

The Great Spirit, the Manitou awakens, Christ Tina,
said. Rising up, Tina opened books from another law,
all topological mats turned down to settle treble and
bass before the surge, as the orgasm waned the hum
restored. I am peace Tina said, removing fingers from
lips, kissing eyes, resurrection.

Beatific. She is splendid, Saint Faith, my Chrissy,
Tina detailed. As Faith grows wild she will dance
'cross the moans. All pleasure she said. Hear what she
did when she came reborn. That is true Renaissance. Be
Joyous. Hallelujah. Be glad, She is born again. Praise
God. She will die for your sins. Rise up Ye Nations of
the world. Peace is thy name at last.

SAINT FAITH DEAR CHRISSY ON SPEECH

Will words never end? Will lies never fall silent
before spoken? Why, this pompous refrain? God is
beyond us, and all of what we assumed to keep our
faith well its simple gone. You understand the entry
in the book: god is dead. He said it. Do you
understand? NO. Then listen I am the Gadfly. Why do
you deny I live? Who is this false God? Speak up. I
thought so. Nothing is perfect but the silence.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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