Oct. 23rd, 2012

levity: (desire lives in the heart)

        The blond boy in the red trunks is holding your head underwater
because he is trying to kill you,
     and you deserve it, you do, and you know this,
            and you are ready to die in this swimming pool
  because you wanted to touch his hands and lips and this means
                              your life is over anyway.
         You’re in the eighth grade. You know these things.
  You know how to ride a dirt bike, and you know how to do
      long division,
and you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless
                  he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you
                                              didn’t do,
      because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore.


      A dark-haired man in a rented bungalow is licking the whiskey
from the back of your wrist.
         He feels nothing,
             keeps a knife in his pocket,
                         peels an apple right in front of you
         while you tramp around a mustard-colored room
in your underwear
                 drinking Dutch beer from a green bottle.
      After everything that was going to happen has happened
you ask only for the cab fare home
            and realize you should have asked for more
                         because he couldn’t care less, either way.

The man on top of you is teaching you how to hate, sees you as a piece of real estate )


levity: (Default)

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