*+++SUPER SOLDIER SAILOR STARS* _) _) C===3 :-* Kawaii

0.000 EARTH-CHAN DieS // THE SUN STARES 0-N111!

Clash. Satoshi's nipple. Ash's eye. Kasumi's tears river-bred, the Goldene her niece estranged leaping sentient to her nubile little missile breasts. Her sister's liquid eye watches her from the pool. Mamoru is borne in the arm of the seven daughters. Olympus carves her rain on the milkpink of his skin. Mamoru's eyes lull. The goddess gives her young another womb, her beautiful rolling hip the nippled kiss of an infinity in warrior-servitude. The Lapyrs abides. "I AM GOD," she says to Misty Kasumi Watereye. Misty's little body trembles.

"Mama," Mamoru says, his mouth lacquered in shitblack earth.

"I am the seventh senshi," says the skirt, and Haruka's sword like a spine encases his lost rib.

"Mom," he says, and in the backs of his eyelids a wind shifts a pinpricked curtain showing deeper velvet to the children in the breast of his tuxedo.

"I wish I could be, sweet child," says Haruka, and his/her tender heart upon the apple of Earth's hand washes the beauty of a river through the empty crevices of the pegasi stigmata in the crowned soles of his heels.

"Are you my mother?" says the boy, and to Michiru he directs a flaccid plastic finger seeking God, the tentacle of an alien baby brought there to the foot of the bejeweled starry heathery throne. Michiru's sweat, her arm, Haruka's perfume, each offering comes before the black empty door of his serpent's nostrils knocking without a sating air. Does he breathe?

"From stars we bore you," say his mothers the daughters. The goddess. Haruka. Michiru. Michiru. Haruka. In his arms an empty kingdom lifts itself from sand, and to a grovelling pix he is trembling making a carpet. He longs for walking; he longs one limb to climb the air and plant itself before its mirror yeshua.

"Here is my womb, Mothers," says the boy, and he holds the apple to her open palm, a womb given by time to the wombless apple. Knowing he has no guilt, no lovers, no ambulance: "Love for my ancestors makes no war on this planet."

"You love a phantom barely blessed," says Michiru, and in her hair a star shines like silverene caught by barbs of a deoxygenated net drug razor-bred through her bosom into volatile blue fruition out of her skull. Women have skulls, and bigger hands than the sun.

"I am my mothers' son forever cursed," weeps the emperor, and from the earth he draws four daggers in the bloodshit beneath the bladed beds of his fingernails.

"Why do you not want my body?" says the sun through the mirror in his eye, and the men and women dance, and the men and women die, and Mamoru lies waking with his head in his heart, sorely given. Give it back.

"I am."

"Haru-chan."

"Fags die of AIDS," whispers Haruka, and her costume epaulets unwhisper in jangling. She jangles not, but sways, and in her shaking arm the king's head loses with the earth he bears which bares him, and into earth he becomes something like a traveling glaive moving southward through a divine cavity and out of a tuba's throat. She feeds him a metapod.

"I cannot see you, my love," says the uncrying sun, for mercury's mist does turn her the sun to a strangled vapor which eats her rays and icens the earth, unbeautiful quicksilver, huge-dicked, unshafted, unloved, unkind, nearly unwomaned like Beryl Medea before her, seen through glass eyes the visor bleeps and tells the Medea 'Quiet, quiet,' and the love between earth and Mercury pales, and the love between the sun and the mercury persists in tango, the mercury as yet unencumbered, and Ami the girl a slave to her wrinkles waiting like tumors under stretched skin, the sun a cold cuckold. The sinner learneth quickly at the foot of warmed over sunlight, mercury embezzles, Hermes the thief, and then the god Mercury and his bare egg the empty bombed out planet cooking in its atmosphere are stolen and brought before the emperor. The emperor waits, writing in his eyelids to Mercury the mother of his monstrous bastards.