GRAVID BLOSSOM

The ultimate infection. The one who sleeps with their sisters(& underage brothers). The one who fouls up neighborhoods, outglows gangsters, and makes all of their egos feel small with just a slash of her sneer. Her family was the best of the carbomb troups from the scum of Ireland. She was the misplaced queen of Belfast; grandmother of ALL the religious zealots. The shadow spider who crawls on their bodies but is never seen. The manic, frantic, potato peeling cunt dancing on everybody's graves. The Irishwoman who'd been cooked out of whiskey, vomit, and triangle bones; with a sad diet consisting of mad cow disease, red soled shoes, and dates for elevator sex. The Irishwoman with calls unanswered and phones disconnected(after screwing a few young boys and being declared a pervert by the Manhattan Ladies' Quilting Circle). The Irishwoman who has uncomfortable eyes and useless trivia. Who was involved in every non-Christian organization known to man. Who knows pools halls in Paris and birds in Tangier. Who sleeps atop pinball tables. Published January 6th, 2020 on her Neutral Spaces blog. Read, at her request, by Brandon Norcross on MLC July 1st, 2022. She also read two pieces by Mark Blickley that same night. This was the last Misery Loves Company she attended.