QUEER HORROR DAY 16 - MIRROR

QUEER HORROR DAY 16 - MIRROR

I’ve replaced my mattress with a mirror. I wake up to myself. Make love to myself: smudges, saliva and pecker-tracks on the glass. I am cold, flat and smooth to my own touch. I shatter my face, crack my body and cut my own hands.

I’ve installed mirrors throughout my apartment. First the windows so I can always see inside by looking outside, then the walls and floors so that my world is much bigger than just me. Now I can finally see myself as others see me — imperfections and beauty from all angles. I am getting taller, grayer, pudgier, more tense.

Reflected into infinity, one should know what they project in every movement and expression. One should study themselves with the exacting interest of a naturalist and actor, making note of how they dance, undress, eat and defecate. One should never go without self-sight.

Even my dreams have mirrors in them. I am never alone.

(image via)

QUEER HORROR DAY 1 - HEAVEN HOUSE

An ex-gay therapist's room: queer kids strapped down, being electrocuted and made to vomit while viewing innocuous pictures of men and women. An Bishop's boudoir: old priests and nuns getting ready to gang-bang a black kid. A Westboro Baptist funeral:  the "God Hates Fags" family smiles around the open coffin of a queer kid — her face horribly bashed in. An exorcism room: conservative shirt-and-tie folks holding down a scared kid as a preacher approaches him with hot iron cross and a water bucket — funnel and hose attached. In the last room, a bunch of queers with colored hair tell you, "There is a way out! You don't have to go to heaven, you know. Would you like to be saved?"

THE GREAT UNFRIENDING #1

(2/2/14) I just de-friended Euriamis Losada because I did two favors for him as a favor to a mutual friend several years ago and I have not heard from him since. No hard feelings, just no history to speak of besides that. Who will be next?

Hearts, anyone? They're selling cheap.

QUEER HORROR DAY 9 - TORRO

His dagger-shaped dick dripped hissing poisons, his jet black body made darker with black striped flames licking his legs, his round cavernous ass (a dank growling scent from within). Even in the dark, his brown eyes burn you, his jaguar muscles, a burning cross. Claws, fangs, talons, pounce!

Oh sweet victim! Sad plaything, you rape-toy seized by the neck, he sinks his teeth and thrashes about, the killer! Terrible passions! Paws pin his prey, crushing breath, THEN the meat rips upward in his bloody maul. Hot gouts spurting, the moonlit wound. The taste of moaning whispers, weakened pleading.

How he loves — as the bull did Europa.

(image via)

QUEER HORROR DAY 5 - MEMBER

Regina woke up one morning with a penis. She didn't want it, it just appeared — hairy, long and just a bit too large for her panties. She told her girlfriend who thought it was some kind of joke, and went to the doctor but she could provide no explanation. She thought about removing it but worried that it might grow back or that it would somehow ruin her chances of ever getting her vagina back. Later that month, she started sprouting chest and facial hair; she felt like her boobs and hips were shrinking and that her arms and legs were getting more muscular. For a woman who had always liked her curvy figure, she was mortified. She began wearing frumpy sweatsuits and large overcoats when she went outdoors.

Then, leaving her apartment one day, she noticed that her skinny artistic neighbor downstairs seemed to have sprouted a pair of small breasts (not pectoral muscles, but round, pronounced breasts). "Does he have my vagina" she wondered, but could not bring herself to ask.