The Ticket That Exploded (Burroughs, William S.) (9 page)

BOOK: The Ticket That Exploded (Burroughs, William S.)
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Bulletin from Rewrite:
“The point of these exercises is to maintain a state of total alertness during sexual excitement — Try simple exercises first like jacking-off while balancing a chair — Driving full-speed on dangerous road — Flying plane — Performing precision operations at the same time like target shooting — So you can maintain alertness in the sex act and not be taken by the sex agents of the enemy who move to soften you up with sentimentality
and sexual frustration to buy ersatz goo of their copy planet” —

The two boys got in the cub naked and took off climbing to an altitude of two thousand feet with dual controls — Hans put the plane into a spin while the other boy jacked him off — slipping, looping, ejaculated from the shift of blood came in with a hard-on for a spot landing — shooting coins flipped into the air cock pulsing in the afternoon sun —

Bradly moved into a maze of orgone accumulators — circular rooms lined with magnetic iron — He entered the maze with three other boys — In the first chamber they found iron frames on which they stretched their bodies in different positions of exposure — A vibrating silence hummed through the magnetized air — Tingling blue light touched his rectum and genitals playing along the divide line left a taste of metal in the mouth — Smaller accumulators with hose attachments turned directly on erogenous zones the message of orgasm received and transmitted — He passed now to other rooms with magnetized sex symbols on revolving walls — The three other boys were not there now — They had been replaced by precise copies in a substance like flexible amber molded from their bodies, the two halves welded together — Odors spattered out as electric vibrators sidled the dummies toward him — smell of rectal mucus, sweat, carbolic soap, jissom, and stale underwear over clean young flesh — From transistor radios in the throat drifted all the sex words of his wet dreams and masturbating afternoons — The penis canal was a jointed iron tube covered by sponge rubber — Pubic hairs of fine wire crackled with blue
sparks — The dummy cocks rose in response to magnetic attraction of the wall symbols — “Bend over” Bradly stretched himself over an iron frame — The dummy that was precisely
me
penetrated him with a slow magnetic movement — Tingling blue fire shot through his genitals transfixed by the magnetic revolving wall symbols — The vibrator switched on as the others watched — idiot lust drinking his jissom from screen eyes — Sucking cones of color that dissolved his penis in orgasms of light —

“Better than ‘the real thing?’ — There is no real thing — Maya — Maya — It’s all show business” —

Picture flesh — felt the penny arcade in his crotch — fly full of dust, pulled up his pants — back into drained genitals — Intersection of these exercises spattered light on total alertness during sexual flight — naked for physical riders as stomach muscles exploded in altered pressure — “Whee” the sex act soften you up to buy death in orgasm of copy planet — Other side throwing the orgone accumulators — take over all sexual apparatus — smell of moldy jockstraps and chlorine ejaculating —

Bulletin from Rewrite:
“Sex is electric output of the organism in message received and transmitted — Sex words evoke a dangerous that is to say
other
half of the body — Precise attraction — So what is ejaculation? Shooting at target — The orgasm is a flash bulb that takes your picture — Charge of course is electrical hose attachments they turned on — Rusty image of a separate being — feed-back noise of accumulators — You see the caustic layers of organic material? That is what they need from earth: Three other boys to make more marble flesh, ass and genitals vibrated by the iridescent attendant — Orgasm
death is to other half of the body — So what is ejaculation? substitute patterns twisting through electrical pubic hairs, feed-back throat hum, recorder jack-off — Hose attachment substitutes all cocks — They turned off nervous system to the metal ray — switch on off body sound magnetic patterns — Where ‘the passengers’ came together recorders jack-off in flash coordinates — back into your drained genitals all junk and cool circuits — Virus punch cards waiting before organism — 8276 runs out in iridescent road naked with a hard-on shooting torture films — Maintain your alertness in eyes glinting with slow fish lust — sex agents of the enemy who color sex words with ersatz goo — pass along the orgone in throat gristle alternating body — take a simple tape from one hum between the hose attachments — Orgones through iron repetition setting off word tape response in the other nervous system—image of a separate being touched lungs penis and electric body hairs — now passes along orgone in throat gristle alternating sex words to color: ‘Bradly’ entered the controlled prisoner body — tingling blue light in a simple tape from one drifting hum for the act between hose attachments — layers of organic material rubbing off the encrusted odors of three other boys and so a ‘conversation’ that has ass and genitals spelt out in his mouth — ejaculation output of control system received and transmitted — Sex words evoke the other open shirt flapping viscera — torture films electric eyes glinting with insect lust — alternating amber beads and little tunes taken centuries to accrete — hum and taste of metal in the beads — Stroking music from hose attachments they turn virus punch cards to magnetic patterns —
past time energy units — That is to say a
dead land
— 8276 whispered through iron from pale word dust stirring tape — marble parasite image of a separate being — dream flesh held together by sex words” —

The Sex Musicians drift through streets of music trailing melodious propositions — In bath cubicles of a rotting pier over tide flats a boy played the jade flute while Bradly screwed him following the notes out of his body into birdcalls lapping water and distant music on the trade winds — In a cool blue room sucked off a clarinet player to a climax of wind chimes, subway dawns, and clicking turnstiles — Under red fuck lights bent over a black hotel chair beating a drum as a Mexican boy with street dust in his hair fucked him to the drumbeats — these sounds recorded and carried through streets of music — The Sex Musicians drift in and out of combos as colored light pulses to their instruments — on a rotting pier: “Here goes” — Bradly bent over a chair and spread ass cheeks — Smoke finger fucked him to drumbeats — as colored light pulsed through old photos turning sex words and singing dust — ghost rectums drum and pipe to silence from satellite rings — The units turn faster and faster through streets of music trailing word dust over the tide flats — Faster played the flute — Here goes word dust planet — his body into birdcalls and distant music on the wind — “I wanta screw you” in a cool room with rose wallpaper — faces naked of word dust in a shower of ruined suburbs — rings of Saturn in the morning sky as a Mexican boy stirred slow rectum gate — “Want screw you — Over” — “Here goes” — Spin the walls and orbit sex words back to color — Played the flute in flash bulb
of orgasm — tarnished mirror of subway dawns in the bath cubicle — “Bend over” — sex words back to slow movement of rivers — young faces lapping water — wind chimes from Attic frieze —drumbeats of ghost people — “You is coming?” into birdcalls and jungle sounds — In red light felt his pants slide — Cock flipped out and up — Beat a drum on knees like
como perros
— “Slow, deep, Johnny” — The notes twisting Johnny’s thighs — candle shadow bent over a chair — Fucked to music from the casino — flicker faces and bodies fade-out in old photos — toilet smell of subway dawns — Greek vases give out slow crystal music of phallic statues and limestone centuries — Played the flute with fingers light and cold over my naked body — City sounds drift through a blue room under the slate roof — penny arcades on the rotting pier — “Here goes” — flesh sparks to drumbeats — Played the flute faster and faster — limestone flesh stirring in old movies — Hairs rub the rose wallpaper — “You wanta screw me?” trailing flash bulb of orgasm in other flesh — “You is coming?” — pale smell of dawn rectums over a chair — Questions pulse to their instruments — rings of Saturn in the morning sky — Fucked to ebbing carbon dioxide — “Mr Bradly Mr Martin” is smell of subway dawns — Played the flute with fingers light and cold in the door — City sounds drift through the final ape of history —

“Remember i was the movies, the door flash bulb of orgasm — sex words in the cold Spring air — pale smell of dawn shirt — distant proposition in bath cubicles, there the boy played a flute, ten-year-old keeping watch — cracked out of his body into birdcalls and vaudeville voices — distant music to crown a God with street dust
— in the gutter urine sounds — naked brain stranded in the tide flats — Fade-out overtakes a rotting pier — Young faces turn faster and faster through dead nitrous streets — open shirt in the bath cubicle — The street blew rain — You is coming in the death trauma?” —

Distant coffin pulses to their instruments — odor of naked rectums on the rotting pier — “Here goes” in his crotch — Here goes word dust planet — faces naked of old dream — Rings of Saturn in the morning sky melted sex words back to color — Tarnished mirror of subway dawns lying there — Last round over — sex words back to the trade winds — rose wallpaper bleeding dream — Clicking turnstiles left no address — For i have known street dust in his hair — “Isn’t time is there left to give you” — A boy waits on the rotting pier — Departed have left distant music from the casino — over the water “good night” in old photo—sleep breath under the slate roof — solitude of morning stirring old limestone flesh — Leaning say: “You is coming? — ebbing carbon dioxide — Man, like good bye then — Remember i was movies — Played the flute in last terrace of the garden — City sounds drift through a blue room — Left no address — For i have known arcades on the rotting pier — Isn’t time is there left? — Played the flute faster and faster to you — Sex words drifted slowly out into the cold Spring air — pale smell of dawn in the door — Played the flute with fingers fading” —

hands of light in the morning sky — rotting mummy moved out at dawn — The doctor on stage — end of the line —

“All right, doctor, before stranded in the tide flats indications
enough — i told you i would heal scars — i am the big fix talking of orbit on scar impressions — Suddenly shut off in the gutter urine sounds, all the Garden of Delights — God of Panic piping blue notes — invisible intervention — last round over — last parasite muttering there: ‘Man, like good bye then’”—

Memory pictures and singing dust went up in slow motion — Scandinavia outhouse skin forgotten — rings of Saturn in the morning sky — errand boy of subway dawns remitted back to the trade winds — slow silence ebbing from centuries — rose wallpaper bleeding youth body without a shadow — smell of dawn flesh in a privy — precise identity fading out — And these boys circumstance the orgasm leaving — beat a drum twisting Johnny’s healed scars — over the pass without doing pictures — all toilet smell at this point — tarnished mirror through dying peoples — words back to the trade winds — errand boy remitted — leaning say “Good bye — fading my name — silence in tarnished offices — last rotting pier — Isn’t time — the Doctor on stage — end of the line — Played the flute in empty room, fingers fading — Doctor on stage — Played the flute in last errand boy — Closing — Left no address” —

“All right, doctor, before silence indications enough — i told you i would come — Silence healed scars” —

Bradly stood naked with ten subjects in a room lined with metal mirrors — They helped each other into loose fitting cellophane envelopes — A trap door opened in the floor of the cubicle — and the subjects lowered themselves into the sense withdrawal tank and floated a few
feet apart in darkness with no sound but
*
feedback from the two halves of ten bodies permutated to heartbeat body music vibrating through the tank — Body outlines extend and break here — The stretching membrane of skin dissolves — Sudden taste of blood in his throat as gristle vaporizes and the words wash away and the halves of his body separated like a mold — Fish sperm drifted through the tank in silent explosions — Skeletons floated and crab parasites of the nervous system and the grey cerebral dwarf made their last attempt to hold prisoners in spine and brain coordinates — screaming “You can’t — You can’t — You can’t” — Screaming without a throat without speech centers as the brain split down the middle and the feed-back sound shut off in a blast of silence.

His body extend and break here — He watched the wavering stretching membrane of skin jump and dance to rhythmic feed-back noise from the electrodes — Magnified sperm drifted through water tape in silent explosions — flash fire shifting hairs through composite outline— a sudden taste of blood on screen as Bradly vaporized the words — Other thoughts and memories separated like a mold — half-remembered dissolving skin instructions — Cellophane membrane over absent legs outline his body with second halves — Encrusted music separated like a mold — First spurts he could feel outline together — hyphenated line of amoebic process — Hairs rub the skin membrane jump “I wanta screw you” from the electrodes —

“Here goes Johnny — His body extend and break here — One track out” — Clear erection stretching membrane of skin — Film track feed-back noise of rectal mucus and carbolic soap — Pale heartbeats through his body — all process in the throat — Sick dawn smell of sperm drifting through water on all cocks in silent explosion — genital night of black fruit that grows dream flesh — Heartbeats wrote the numbers through his body: blood in throat gristle “That’s right — His body extend and break here — Knees up to the chin now” —

Bulletin from the Rewrite Department:
“Now look, you jokers — We are not here to rewrite G.O.D. (Garden Of Delights) you got it? Watch those fuckers — Still on the old evacuation plan” —

throat gristle sex words on two halves of the body — vibrating the spinal column — shared meals contract of rectum flight — metal hairs falling like dry leaves — crystal body music vibrating the two recorders — screaming neon in the throat — worn amber body music — They fade out in old photos here —magnified present time tape in silent explosions — past time units whirl evening faces into drifting smoke and dead land of black lagoons — a slow whisper in his brain — The units turn faster and faster — Full length now —Washed green light from
penis and lips — His body attendant break here — Here goes Word Dust Planet and crab parasites —

BOOK: The Ticket That Exploded (Burroughs, William S.)
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