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Roxanne speaks: You could say that I am fully informed. I wake up to thoughts of nebulas and slaughterhouses. I hear the deep hum of suffering that is the earth's atmosphere. God is the coin of joy and despair. It depends on how much significance you place on the flip in the day. Or late at night when the wind howls through there is the creepy feeling that stalls in the yard like a stranger or a lonely cat. I try to keep my weakness at bay by performing these small compassionate acts. Underneath it all there's no good left in me, sister, simply the will to be good. Goodness has become an intellectual exercise. My heart is reeking. The smell of rotten earth beneath my shirt. I shower four times a day, but it doesn't help. Is it simply me or that the soil grows stronger directly before and after rain? Evil speaks to me and I reply. My exterior is a singed bulletproof vest, my smile its own mouthguard. My cunt is the strongest. It's the wrongest part of me. My cunt is stronger than my heart and more reliable. Sometimes I wish my face was in my panties and that my cunt was on my shoulders. That way I'd make more money and whatever the paying men wished to discover wouldn't be left up to guesswork.
At least then I'd never need a tissue. I could cry into the lining of my crutchless knickers. The universe is always close enough to tear my heart out with its delicate fingers, and to leave the entrails hanging out to dry in the wind and sun on a shooter's highway fence. The planet is the imperfect God, the mutilator of animals and children. The earth has given me life when I least expected or wanted it, then taken everything away bit by bit. I'm its messy agriculture, its cruel experiment, bred up to be dismantled and vivisected. I don't even warrant its compassion or curiosity. It's lonelier than that. These days I want nothing more than my daily existence. All dreams have floated away like those storm clouds across the Darwin harbour. For years I tried to save this cruel and bewildering world, and it stood back from my pathetic attempts. I became as soulless and weary as it is, a tiny exhausted ant with tears as big as an elephant.
I am a broken tusk, a bewildered beast. There is no peace inside me but sadness. Question: How can it just watch, or not watch? Answer: It has no heart and no eyes, while everything cried into its tiny hands. Now I want nothing in life but my battle fatigues. I'll go out fighting because we'd all rather look up than down at our lives on sad limbs, our loneliness, aching cunts and limp pricks. Behold the great watcher or non-watcher of grief and agony. God is about as powerful as a star or a galaxy exploding or the point of singularity in an imploding universe. There's no compassion in that moment of an ending and beginning. There's no central nervous system. It's all given to us like we're stupid lizards waiting for evolution. I guess you think I'm raving, but at the moment I'm thinking very clearly. Why who wouldn't be, after the ringtailed possum that was hit by a car outside Uncle Sam's? I'm sorry you had to be there. Sharlena said, 'She even had me crying in that surgery.' I didn't want to remember.
Nikita speaks: Keep fighting the good fight, Roxy. You are the hero of the clients and this industry. Girls like you maintain the standards and make it what it should be. As for me, I don't know who I am right now, but I know it ain't pretty. Jackie wants all the ugly ones. They're her favourites. I don't want the ugly or kinky ones. I had this guy who wanted me to pee all over him. He looked like a cross between Woody Allen and Danny DeVito. He said he liked a woman to pee all over his cock because it was like something really intimate was occurring when he received the pee from inside her body. I mean to say, no other animals I know do this kinda shit! Suddenly he popped his head down between my legs, so I got a scissor grip on him with my thighs. I said, 'Get outa there!' I will never forget the image of his thick rimmed glasses, fluffy bits of hair each side of his round face, and his big comical smile looking longingly down at my pussy, then looking back up to me and saying, 'C'mon, Nikita. Treat yourself!' |
