The Seven Deadly Skins

The Seven Deadly Skins are an unfiltered embodiment of our raw and visceral desires, flaws and impulses

Envy

Dicky's got red eyes and cold sores, scab knees and hangin nails. Has a bush fort by the muskeg swamp and more stories than I got patience for all that pretension. He's got bug bites on his bug bites and soggy magazines under the steps. What I wouldn't give to get outta bed and live a little, just for once.

Greed

Found the hard candies in the parlour. Grabbed a handful and jammed them in my cheek. Suzy comes in and says I have to share. I just make sucking sounds so she stomps her feet and I cram the rest of the candies in. Finders keepers I slur. Just makes her mad and she pushes me down. Stunned now. Gulping. Eyes watering. She looks over me and says. Losers Weepers.

Wrath

Told Cazzy enough times, if she don't keep it down I will make the quiet happen myself. Bare hands and a shop hook if I have to. Builds up like a balloon with all the yap yap and drum bumpin'  Gets me wincing and then, well, if rage gurgles and my stabber comes out, all a sudden there's a leakin bag of fat jully shootin out in all directions. It's coming swift now. Numbs my reason and manners. Comes hissin at my nape like a red biter. Hackles high and cold bloodlust I'm wheelin round the corner with sharp intentions.

Sloth

Ass was sore on Sunday but don't feel much anymore down there. Wednesday now probably. Sinking down in the sweat stained suede, this sofa's a derelict raft of chip bags and chocolate wrappers. Phone's dead. Meh. I'd try to kick my pants the rest of the way off but whatever.

Lust

Anything that moves. Just rubbernecking from one dripping fantasy to another. Like this one, sauntering by with a wigglewhack denim crack. Gotta swallow my spit or slobber on the sidewalk. Now this guy here, buttons down, curlies peacockin like a bed of wool, he's got my palms wet and spine straightnin. He stops and starts talking to chunky one with red lips, and double tips. Oh the weight—that bottom on top. The bounce and the bump a thwack and a thump. I walk by close and whiff their combined biome, my nasal hairs aroused with dead flowers and crease grease.

Gluttony

Sweet delicious, this soft slurry, ambrosia of the dogs. I tickle the teat, tongue in the gravity feed but I'm coming out dry. Lush sacks of dripping must not end. Wheel me under the next to suckle. Retuck my dermal folds and kneel nearby. Take some pictures. Show me after. Hurry now with the push. My bucca mucosa puckers for the nectar. Ease me beneath this tube and do neck pillow here for the minimum strain whilst I siphon drain.

Pride

I'm easily the prettiest man at the ball. Why does Emery even try so hard, he's got garbage teeth. Nothing you can do there. Lance has a lazy eye and Baruk is a troll. Me? Just a beautiful specimen; my face a model of symmetry and this body, a chiselled god. It's a scandal no one will waltz with me.