The Soft Machine by William S. Burroughs

Author:William S. Burroughs [Burroughs, William S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, pdf
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I Sekuin

THE MAYAN CAPER—THE CENTIPEDE SWITCH—THE HEAVY METAL

GIMMICK.

I Sekuin, perfected these arts along the streets of Minraud. Under sign of the Centipede.

A captive head. In Minraud time. In the tattoo booths. The flesh graft parlors. Living wax works of Minraud. Saw the dummies made to impression. While you wait. From short-time. In the terminals of Minraud. Saw the white bug juice spurt from ruptured spines. In the sex rooms of Minraud. While you wait. In Minraud time. The sex devices of flesh.

The centipede penis. Insect hairs thru grey-purple flesh. Of the scorpion people. The severed heads. In tanks of sewage. Eating green shit. In the aquariums of Minraud. The booths of Minraud. Under sign of the centipede. The sex rooms and flesh films of Minraud. I Sekuin a captive head. Learned the drugs of Minraud. In flak Braille. Rot brain and spine. Leave a crab body broken on the brass and copper street. I Sekuin captive head. Carried thru the booths of Minraud. By arms. Legs.

Extensions. From the flesh works of Minraud. My head in a crystal sphere of heavy fluid.

Under sing sign of the scorpion goddess. Captive in Minraud. In the time booths of Minraud. In the tattoo parlors of Minraud. In the flesh works of Minraud. In the sex rooms of Minraud. In the flesh films of Minraud. March my captive head. HER captive in Minraud time streets.

On a level plain in the dry sound of insect wings Bradly crash landed a yellow cub—area of painted booths and vacant lots—in a dusty shopwindow of trusses and plaster feet, a severed head on sand, red ants crawling through nose and lips—

“You crazy or something walk around alone?”

The guide pointed to the head: “Guard—You walk through his eyes and you N.G.” The guide sliced a hand across his genitals: “This bad place, Meester—You ven conmigo—”

He led the way through dusty streets—Metal excrement glowed in corners—Darkness fell in heavy chunks blocking out sections of the city.

“Here,” said the guide—“A restaurant cut from limestone, green light seeping through bottles and tanks where crustaceans moved in slow gyrations—The waiter took their order hissing cold dank breath through a disk mouth.

“Good place—cave crabs— Muy bueno for fuck, Johnny—”

The waiter set down a flat limestone shell of squid bodies with crab claws.

“Krishnus,” said the guide.

Still alive, moving faintly in phosphorescent slime— The guide speared one on a bamboo spike and dipped it into yellow sauce—A sweet metal taste burned through stomach intestines and genitals—Bradly ate the krish-nus in ravenous gulps—

The guide raised his arm from the elbow, ” Muy bueno, Johnny—You see.” The waiter was singing through his disk mouth a bubbling cave song— ” Vámanos, Johnny—I show you good place—We smoke fuck sleep O.K. Muy got good one, Johnny—”

Word “Hotel” exploded in genitals—An old junky took Bradly’s money and led them to a blue cubicle— Bradly leaned out a square hole in one wall and saw that the cubicle projected over a void on rusty iron props—The floor moved slightly and creaked under their feet—

“Some time this trap fall—Last fuck for Johnny.

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