(no subject)
We spent most of our time dunking each other in the river of denial. Sometimes we would hold the other under for so long lungs would start burning with ironies and satire. I may have used tricks but I strictly believe someone can only let themselves be fooled so much.
Once I saw him cry. Maybe it was my money threatening his manhood, a finicial castration. Perhaps he was sad he had hurt my feelings with his unending selfishness. Or his contact could have been irratating his eyes. Who knows. He turned his face away and spoke in anger, "I have to go." I got in the car, banging my knee against the door, "come here. Kiss me." He always closed his eyes when he kissed me. Real kisses that we have both spent a year hiding behind rewritten history that suits us and lets sleep come at night.
He gave it up to a manniquin with a smokers voice. He is atoning for his sins with a weak jawed midget.
He isn't the type to be pushed to the ground and get up again. Instead he rolls in the dirt and cries, "I'm so dirty!" As if saying you are no good makes up for being no good. He wants to be able to wear the badge of asshole while being baptized a new.
He doesn't like the way he's been cast in the story of my life. It's no one's business but our own who got hurt and who did the hurting. I want to scream, "You haven't got the balls to be the villian! You want to be the martyr?! Here's the nails! You don't have the courage or conviction! You are just a man and a weak one at that!"
Once I saw him cry. Maybe it was my money threatening his manhood, a finicial castration. Perhaps he was sad he had hurt my feelings with his unending selfishness. Or his contact could have been irratating his eyes. Who knows. He turned his face away and spoke in anger, "I have to go." I got in the car, banging my knee against the door, "come here. Kiss me." He always closed his eyes when he kissed me. Real kisses that we have both spent a year hiding behind rewritten history that suits us and lets sleep come at night.
He gave it up to a manniquin with a smokers voice. He is atoning for his sins with a weak jawed midget.
He isn't the type to be pushed to the ground and get up again. Instead he rolls in the dirt and cries, "I'm so dirty!" As if saying you are no good makes up for being no good. He wants to be able to wear the badge of asshole while being baptized a new.
He doesn't like the way he's been cast in the story of my life. It's no one's business but our own who got hurt and who did the hurting. I want to scream, "You haven't got the balls to be the villian! You want to be the martyr?! Here's the nails! You don't have the courage or conviction! You are just a man and a weak one at that!"