Watermelon Man

Image © Volkan Yildirmaz 2015


by Elisa Pieper November 16, 2015

Cut it, suck it, throw it. Next stop on our journey is wasteland. He told me you’re a

watermelon. Juicy and fresh and seedy and pink and sinful and opened by the knife

and everything he ever wanted in this absent life.


Cut it. Pink flesh orgy. The lord of the flies directs his army to a battlefield of inequality.

Well. Guess the fly likes this prohibited taste of juice. And sugar, sugar daddy said

I love you that it hurts. In your pants, I thought. And you are my watermelon, he



Cutting myself open with the knife he gave me. Suck this. My father in heaven, my

mother in hell, I am guilty, the red flesh seduction. Like the white skin under my neck.

Blue chaste eyes. When the curtain drops, everything is out of sight. Narrowed in your



Sucked out, by your filthy imagination. Throw me. In the corner where I inhale the ghosts

of blazing days. And throw away the devil’s dreams. Black seeds of eternal life I will

plant and while you’re dancing with your virgins, we will grow the freedom of naked

flesh in the after world.



Elisa Pieper studied at Berlin University of the Arts. Until now she couldn’t make it to become rich and beautiful. Trying to get over it, she is currently spending the winter in a village on the Aegean coast. Sometimes she writes. www.artnwaffles.com

Volkan Yildirmaz was born in Istanbul 1979. He lives and works as a freelance painter.


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