<szporluk's "dark eros"> 2004-01-15.9:25 p.m. Dark Eros Larissa Szporluk She smirks, sets herself up on a cinder cone--How does it feel, she asks the old mountain, to have no choice but to feel? Succuss of Anoton's glottis. Rumbles, plutonic debris. Feel this, she hisses into his sphincter, then does something evil with fruit--oh, the power to cry! Oh, to be able to cry! His mouth is under the sea now. The past is a quasi-fetish. I was only a child, but my obsession with you was divine. back /& forth /& frosting names are often sad