CENTRAL.
He’s following the crowded tracks
of so many business suits
and well-dressed women
tanned to the level of their garments
or perhaps beyond for undressing
Their gait announces their importance
in the bite and eat world
of small, rigid cubicles
Only a fellow colleagues’ company
wills her laughter of this day
during staple fights that bore and amuse
their fruitful, patent hours
Such a woman’s business is the getting to work
her journey the fabric’s procession
her eye contact alludes
never begs
she’ll never swerve
or stoop to pursue
unless it’s that familiar fellow
who doesn’t keep labels upon his mugs
or beads of sweat beneath his shirt
"Matthew John Davies, 26, is an emerging writer from Brisbane. He has been published in Cottonmouth and the latest Page Seventeen. He has recently discovered Francis Webb, for better or for worse. He blogs at http://theundersizedshadow.blogspot.com/"
welcome to Queen Vic Knives, an online lit. short story journal / but send us anything, alt lit permutations, short things you just wrote, things you've been slaving upon, sound poetry as mp3s, unfilmable one-page screenplays, snapshots, burns, objects that the people didn't want, nonsense, tranhumanist macros, memeplexes /deadlines: none, except please send through a little bio / we'll be posting up 3-4 times monthly...
21 December 2011
06 December 2011
'You like to fuck the darkness in me' + 'Player' by Koraly Dimitriadis + 'Masters of photography - Diane Arbus (documentary, 1972)'.
You like to fuck the darkness in me.
When you hold me I tremble in your arms
but you just want to fuck the darkness in me
When I told you my friend died
I said the pain was so bad I needed sex
You came straight over, and you didn’t speak
and I didn’t want you to
You kissed me, and I cried in your mouth
Then you stopped, and we hugged, tight, and sighed
But then you just wanted to fuck the darkness in me.
I wanted to be held, but you sent me straight to hell
where I want to be – where I, we, belong
We walk the fine line between pleasure and pain
friend or bastard it’s all just the same
‘I love sucking your cunt,’ you said
‘I love fucking you.’
I wanted to be held but you sent me straight to hell
you showed no mercy, your blunt, honest words
marking out the tall walls of whatever this is
‘What are you?’ you asked.
‘Your friend,’ I replied.
‘What are you?’
‘Your friend.’
Then you yanked at my hair, ‘WHAT ARE YOU?’
‘Your fuck buddy.’
‘Good girl.’
You kissed me with an open mouth, with your tongue
You did things to me I never let anyone do
You forced me to suck your cock
I said, ‘I don’t do that,’ but you didn’t care
my vulnerability had the doors open wide
and you came inside
helping yourself to whatever you liked
ignoring things you did not
But don’t you see, I did this all to me
I dictated how it should be
when you ended it with me
said we were too different
and that I wanted more
I should have let you walk out the door
but instead I said, teach me how to fuck without feeling
I need to learn, so I don’t hurt, the same way again
But then my friend died
and my emotions were open wide
and I was telling you how much I love my friend
and you said, ‘You love to love.’
‘No,’ I replied.
‘You love to love.’
‘No, because then you get hurt.’
‘You love to love.’
And then I found myself saying I want us to be free
that I don’t own you and you don’t own me
that life is just about moments and we can just be
You can rest on my hand like a butterfly
and I’ll watch you fly up to the sky
‘Then I’ll treat you right,’ you said,
‘you just have to trust me.’
But what are we? I wanted to ask, but didn’t
‘What do you want me to do?’ you asked.
‘Hold me.’
‘I’m holding you.’
‘Hold me.’
‘I’m holding you.’
‘Stay with me.’
‘No.’
‘I need someone with me.’
‘No, that’s not what you want.’
‘I want us to be friends.’
‘It’s not what you want.’
and you were right,
because the thought of holding your hand
petrifies me more than I can stand
and so, there was nothing more I could say
and I just let you be,
and you, decided to fuck the darkness in me
And I liked it.
When you hold me I tremble in your arms
but you just want to fuck the darkness in me
When I told you my friend died
I said the pain was so bad I needed sex
You came straight over, and you didn’t speak
and I didn’t want you to
You kissed me, and I cried in your mouth
Then you stopped, and we hugged, tight, and sighed
But then you just wanted to fuck the darkness in me.
I wanted to be held, but you sent me straight to hell
where I want to be – where I, we, belong
We walk the fine line between pleasure and pain
friend or bastard it’s all just the same
‘I love sucking your cunt,’ you said
‘I love fucking you.’
I wanted to be held but you sent me straight to hell
you showed no mercy, your blunt, honest words
marking out the tall walls of whatever this is
‘What are you?’ you asked.
‘Your friend,’ I replied.
‘What are you?’
‘Your friend.’
Then you yanked at my hair, ‘WHAT ARE YOU?’
‘Your fuck buddy.’
‘Good girl.’
You kissed me with an open mouth, with your tongue
You did things to me I never let anyone do
You forced me to suck your cock
I said, ‘I don’t do that,’ but you didn’t care
my vulnerability had the doors open wide
and you came inside
helping yourself to whatever you liked
ignoring things you did not
But don’t you see, I did this all to me
I dictated how it should be
when you ended it with me
said we were too different
and that I wanted more
I should have let you walk out the door
but instead I said, teach me how to fuck without feeling
I need to learn, so I don’t hurt, the same way again
But then my friend died
and my emotions were open wide
and I was telling you how much I love my friend
and you said, ‘You love to love.’
‘No,’ I replied.
‘You love to love.’
‘No, because then you get hurt.’
‘You love to love.’
And then I found myself saying I want us to be free
that I don’t own you and you don’t own me
that life is just about moments and we can just be
You can rest on my hand like a butterfly
and I’ll watch you fly up to the sky
‘Then I’ll treat you right,’ you said,
‘you just have to trust me.’
But what are we? I wanted to ask, but didn’t
‘What do you want me to do?’ you asked.
‘Hold me.’
‘I’m holding you.’
‘Hold me.’
‘I’m holding you.’
‘Stay with me.’
‘No.’
‘I need someone with me.’
‘No, that’s not what you want.’
‘I want us to be friends.’
‘It’s not what you want.’
and you were right,
because the thought of holding your hand
petrifies me more than I can stand
and so, there was nothing more I could say
and I just let you be,
and you, decided to fuck the darkness in me
And I liked it.
"Koraly Dimitriadis really doesn’t want this to be yet another boring bio so she’ll do her best to be creative. Koraly was born in Australia to Greek-Cypriot migrants and was raised in the northern suburbs of Melbourne. She is the writer of the controversial poetry chapbook, Love and Fuck Poems. She really wanted to self publish Love and Fuck Poems to make the statement that art is not defined by publishing companies, and by buying a copy you are keeping the momentum alive.
Koraly writes poetry, novels, short stories and whatever else she feels like writing. She has been published online and in print, on Federation square wall, and her work has been broadcast on radio and television. In 2009 Koraly was selected for the Overland masterclass and has been blogging for the literary journal since. Her story ‘The recipe’, was longlisted for the 2011 FISH prize, and her poem ‘Daylesford’, received a merit award in the 2011 Diasporic Literary competition.
Koraly has performed as a spoken word artist locally, interstate and in Cyprus. She has performed at The Human Rights Festival, The Emerging Writers’ Festival, The Overload poetry festival, La Mama
Theatre, and occasionally she performs with prominent contrabassist Nick Tsiavos. Koraly also sometimes has poetry wars with Horror, Sleaze & Trash editor and poet Ben John Smith, and their war at the iconic Polyester Bookshop was promoted with a sexy photo shoot by Art of the State Filmworks and published in Beat magazine where it featured on their home page online. Koraly was a finalist at the 2010 Doris Ledbetter, and Overload poetry slams.
Koraly presents on 3CR radio’s Spoken Word. Her novel, Misplaced, was longlisted for the 2010 Hachette manuscript program. Her first chapbook is A poet is born, and Koraly is nearing completion of her poetry collection, Love according to wogs. Love and Fuck Poems will be published by a Cypriot publisher in late 2012. Koraly is also thinking about a sequel for Love and Fuck Poems.www.koralydimitriadis.com for poetry and performance dates..."
Koraly writes poetry, novels, short stories and whatever else she feels like writing. She has been published online and in print, on Federation square wall, and her work has been broadcast on radio and television. In 2009 Koraly was selected for the Overland masterclass and has been blogging for the literary journal since. Her story ‘The recipe’, was longlisted for the 2011 FISH prize, and her poem ‘Daylesford’, received a merit award in the 2011 Diasporic Literary competition.
Koraly has performed as a spoken word artist locally, interstate and in Cyprus. She has performed at The Human Rights Festival, The Emerging Writers’ Festival, The Overload poetry festival, La Mama
Theatre, and occasionally she performs with prominent contrabassist Nick Tsiavos. Koraly also sometimes has poetry wars with Horror, Sleaze & Trash editor and poet Ben John Smith, and their war at the iconic Polyester Bookshop was promoted with a sexy photo shoot by Art of the State Filmworks and published in Beat magazine where it featured on their home page online. Koraly was a finalist at the 2010 Doris Ledbetter, and Overload poetry slams.
Koraly presents on 3CR radio’s Spoken Word. Her novel, Misplaced, was longlisted for the 2010 Hachette manuscript program. Her first chapbook is A poet is born, and Koraly is nearing completion of her poetry collection, Love according to wogs. Love and Fuck Poems will be published by a Cypriot publisher in late 2012. Koraly is also thinking about a sequel for Love and Fuck Poems.www.koralydimitriadis.com for poetry and performance dates..."
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