Twelfth Night: 2014

by Ernst Graf

I need to put myself in to a mood of sickly morbid eroticism again! Of despair! Desperate sexual hunger that comes with black psychological despair and morbid sickly eroticism. The ferns and fronds, violin music, as dancers slowly take their clothes off on stage. Fucking like rutting cats, in despair, to fuck the pain away. Roll away and get up and leave each other without a word or a glance. I need to lose myself in degrading, sleazy illicit thrills again. Go back to the gilded gutter life of Francis Bacon, the sublime and ridiculous world, diving deeper into darkness. Go back to an infantile sexuality, pure priapism, the life of the cock.

82 pages, Kindle Edition

Published March 8, 2018