jethro’s daughter: anima solas

by Allister Nelson

The fucks last for stratospheres – planes land, touch down, feathers on the ash tray, and his seed is a river through me.

Cigarette in the tender hand. A broken heart. A fractured landslide in the bed. Snow on the trestle car. Who knows where I am? Where is Lucifer at this very moment, buried in Qliphoth grime, a scaled mirror I slice into pieces and use as armor.

I dissect his ribs and eat the meat. He fucks my mercy hole – the one I stole from Mother Christ’s side wound. I turned the pic of baby angel Pollyanna – I was so cute! – little old me with Mother Christ and Papa Satan Aleppe over as Lucifer showed me just how much live wire wedged between a clit and vagus nerve could paralyze me.

Cannibalism followed after.

I ate pomegranate seeds from the nape of his neck to his groin

Swallowed them

pith

rind

stem.

Spit out

blood

and worms.

I’m a good tradwife.

I’m an obedient wife.

I do what God tells me.

God wants me

in Hell.

*Stay tuned for Allister Nelson’s next installment of Jethro’s Daughter next week.