research

wordifying the sensation
"let me tell you a story"

she trains for years
stretch herself up ten feet and backward into a crazy π
but contorting herself into 1.5 cubic feet
is the real goal

the humming of the machine is soothing
mmmm mmmm mmhmmm
such an approving appliance
and convenient, if she goes

not enough

drawn to the romantic notion of self-immolation
warmth not associated with hell
she learns not to run or fear
and crosses tiptoeingly across the burning coals

she learns that as the flames consumed they too
can be consumed
performing skilled irrumatio
bringing to both a sweet release

and still


the image of the man throwing his fist through a wall
stays with her as a distraction
she practices with the nails
lies herself on them, tries to sleep

allows the man with the many daggers
to pierce her with his inadequacy
does not flinch even
becomes adept at staring straight ahead

then

the searchlights tear through the crowded space
and children scream, men yell and boo, women clap politely
the animals chatter in excitement, the thrill of being the center of attention
voices announcing via an overhead PA system meant to extent for miles
and the band is brassy and full of egoists trying to be heard above it all
the glitter everywhere and mirrors everywhere reflecting lights
she's little dressed-- the show demands a display of flesh
it is a cold, cold night and cold air comes from a giant fan
and the energy of spectacle makes her turn warm-- too warm

she forms her lips into a well-practiced smile of orthodontically perfect teeth
and performs for them her pain