Geert Lovink on Tue, 27 May 1997 23:59:54 +0200 (MET DST)


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<nettime> doll yoko: sweet, dirty, too late!


From: doll yoko <gashgirl@sysx.apana.org.au>
Subject: sweet, dirty, too late!
	the river boy floats up
	the little ghost waits for him on the bridge of dreams
	
	
	
	he is everything and nothing
	
	all beauty ~~  all filth ~~ all silence  ~~  all danger
	
	he will be her life and her death for one dark sweet moment
	
	and she will be haunted by a past which is forever the future
	
	
	
	he comes to her at dawn, makes her forget she is a ghost
	a hole where her heart once lay and no flesh on her bones
	
	he comes to her at dusk, his damp clothes falling to his feet
	taking her in his golden river arms he holds her till she
        becomes not ghost
	
	

	they kiss ~~ becoming kiss, becoming fuck
	
	becoming, becoming, always becoming
	
	she becomes the river
	
	she is the boy
	
	and he is ghost
	
	
	
	she takes his eyes that she may see that which he sees
	she takes his hands that she may hold that which he holds
	she takes his lips that she may share in all his kisses
	
	she weeps tears of code
	pearls tumble from her lips
	a thousand snakes crawl from her cunt 
	reminding her she is orphan slut, ghost, forever doll
	
	zero, never one, never two
	always becoming that which is other
	
	
	
	it is in a state of complete sadness that the little ghost
        realises she must kill again 
	in order to survive this surfeit of love
	
	so many beautiful boys have died at her pale hands
	so many blue green grey eyes making her their final feast
	their bodies wrapped in hers as she takes their last breaths
        and makes them her first
	
	
	she weeps rivers, fills oceans with her sadness, the sky is
        heavy with clouds of remorse for acts not yet committed
	oil spills like blood while the generals grow fat
	and the people forget how to dance
	
	
	but she is ghost
	
	and he is river
	
	always outlaws
	
	
	
	doll yoko says: to kill is to forget
	
	
	
	she melts him with a gaze that is fierce and tender
	feels his throat under her teeth
	watches the butterflies escape from his eyes
	
	
	he is always boy, always river
	
	and she, she will be always doll, always pond, a ghost becoming

@go river
the river boy floats up
the little ghost waits for him on the bridge of dreams



he is everything and nothing

all beauty ~~  all filth ~~ all silence  ~~  all danger

he will be her life and her death for one dark sweet moment

and she will be haunted by a past which is forever the future



he comes to her at dawn, makes her forget she is a ghost
a hole where her heart once lay and no flesh on her bones

he comes to her at dusk, his damp clothes falling to his feet
taking her in his golden river arms he holds her till she becomes not
ghost



they kiss ~~ becoming kiss, becoming fuck

becoming, becoming, always becoming

she becomes the river

she is the boy

and he is ghost



she takes his eyes that she may see that which he sees
she takes his hands that she may hold that which he holds
she takes his lips that she may share in all his kisses

she weeps tears of code
pearls tumble from her lips
a thousand snakes crawl from her cunt 
reminding her she is orphan slut, ghost, forever doll

zero, never one, never two
always becoming that which is other



it is in a state of complete sadness that the little ghost realises she
must kill again 
in order to survive this surfeit of love

so many beautiful boys have died at her pale hands
so many blue green grey eyes making her their final feast
their bodies wrapped in hers as she takes their last breaths and makes
them her first



she weeps rivers, fills oceans with her sadness, the sky is heavy with
clouds of remorse for acts not yet committed

oil spills like blood while the generals grow fat

and the people forget how to dance



but she is ghost

and he is river

always outlaws



doll yoko says: to kill is to forget



she melts him with a gaze that is fierce and tender
feels his throat under her teeth
watches the butterflies escape from his eyes


he is always boy, always river

and she, she will be always doll, always pond, a ghost becoming
---
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