Gay Army, 2010


Her snarky yarns, bombs in her head, the mutilated meat of millions of meaningless bodies decorate the windy hallways of history’s slanted libraries. Powdered wig and rotting breath, in bloodstained velvet slippers he “skis” through time, ramming electric cattle prods up the anuses of the masses because he can, and on the wings of peace and love, he rapes children for the sake of the altar. Someone ties a young man to a fence and murders him in broad daylight, Holly Golightly, Roy Cohn, a chandelier of sex toys, a rubber duck and a phone. A smorgasbord of cruelty is on the menu for tonight’s celebration. The sulfuric scent of senators, the fermented farts of kings; they gas us all in their chalice-shaped chambers and call it “evolving on issues.” The lepers have no place at the table unless it’s on fire. Wedding bouquets of broken glass, weaponized pink triangles, hand grenades filled with cooties; we jump from the courthouse window before they give us a tax break.

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