(no subject)
I found a certain secret spot where I could hide my hind behind the triangular tops of suburban homes and radio towers. Where the snow melts like it should and the boys bend over like they said they couldn't. This is where no man should ever breathe. This is where no man should ever utter an insignificant sigh. You keep your mouth goddamned shut and you just listen to the whistle of the treetops. It is March, it is tornado season. This is the season where boys whirl their schtick out into a fit of confusion. They purse their little lips to the ugliest of dicks. When the weather is wrong and the music is right is when the boys kiss with softer lips. Both sluts in our own right, I find the best boy. He wraps his arms around my shoulders while we dance. His mouth is a parasite. His body is a sight to see. When he is inside of me, it is simply the place to be. Is he prolific? Will we click? He kisses me again...
"Won't somebody stop me-- from thinking-- from thinking all the time?" he whispers from beneath my hand against his mouth.
"So deeply, so bleakly? So bleakly all the time? About everything?" he exhales desperately out of his mouth.
"Shut up, shut up!" I shout as I rise my fist to hit him.
".. Who I am, how I ever got here.."
His face is spread out in front of me like a kindergartener's fingerpaint drawing. Something so ugly that it makes itself beautiful. I want it up my face yet I know it would only make me sick. Just like him. His seed up my nose like a bad line of speed. Nobody likes white paint anyway. Nobody likes white pain anyway. Nobody likes me anyway. Nobody likes it anyway. Nobody likes this anyway. Eject the tape, untie the noose. We're done. Nobody is worth it anyway. Like a long distance runner, I'll make myself black at any day.
"So give us a drink and make it quick or else I'm gonna be sick."
"Won't somebody stop me-- from thinking-- from thinking all the time?" he whispers from beneath my hand against his mouth.
"So deeply, so bleakly? So bleakly all the time? About everything?" he exhales desperately out of his mouth.
"Shut up, shut up!" I shout as I rise my fist to hit him.
".. Who I am, how I ever got here.."
His face is spread out in front of me like a kindergartener's fingerpaint drawing. Something so ugly that it makes itself beautiful. I want it up my face yet I know it would only make me sick. Just like him. His seed up my nose like a bad line of speed. Nobody likes white paint anyway. Nobody likes white pain anyway. Nobody likes me anyway. Nobody likes it anyway. Nobody likes this anyway. Eject the tape, untie the noose. We're done. Nobody is worth it anyway. Like a long distance runner, I'll make myself black at any day.
"So give us a drink and make it quick or else I'm gonna be sick."