When she was a child, Marie decided to live her life as a horse

She greatly enjoyed her agony, but eventually the humiliations of
The saddle lost their appeal
She lives with me now, in this house
Where every night we play the same game
It begins at dusk;
Marie taunts me with her naked breasts, which hang like
Dazzling moons, then I dump one of our many overflowing
Ashtrays over her body
The ashes cling to the urine on her torn
Clothes forming new, amusing patterns each time
At night she
Reenacts scenes from her passion
She kicks and screams on all
Fours—her violent dressage thrills me
When she is too tired to
Move, I collect the bitter flakes from her head
I press against her
Naked body and squeeze it until she loses any remaining
Pretense of beauty
These acts are nauseating but necessary