del(irium) ha(i)z(e)
I batter away on the viking desire of fliegenpilze und eine dusche pro jahre. I keep my clothes, sex for sport, and smoking for pleasure. If I get hungry there is rotting whale meat under the ice, but I am learning to eat from my arsehole...chocolate cheese and vegetable flavours come through this way. An arse munching european vegetarian. Nothing could be easier - just do not eat out, eat in the streets instead. Grab the jettisoned potato chips and an occasional vegan sausage. It doesn't get much better than this, pillaging the soy rainforests of South America. I catch the shit I eat and always watch my back. The gathering can get out of hand pretty quick when mutually fulfilling contracts come into effect out of single species mingling. But with the right things on the shopping list, the blonde slim check-out chick comes to climax. She steps out from behind the register and takes me by the hand into the sorting room. Dark beer, dark chocolate and a packet of gummibaerchen. Everything to get the hormones going.
Afterwards we lock ourselves away in a small apartment with a bottle of LSD and a human adrenal gland to chew on. This is our new freedom outside of shopping malls and super markets, dial in pizza and corner store liqueur. Any more of the outside world is too much to have pushed through sensitives like us. With playful bites of affection the distraction of sex kicks through the spine and works its way into the brain. A biting reaction. Chilli on the brain. There is a reproductive mess in the salle de jours kitten puppy baby juice pollacks the floor. Hanging over a child stool white are cotton sock reminders of a seventeen year old check-out chick who would not check out, a would be rapist, non-identifiable. If only she stopped coming back, to come back.