hope is never as sexy as despair
Monthly Archives: August 2007
yours and only
hey boy, he said, crouching down beside him, listen to me boy.
and the younger man couldn’t tell the difference between his lungs and his chest, his ribs and his skin, he felt his nails digging deep into his sides and he wanted to claw his skin off. what, he spat, what, fucking what?
boy, he leaned in closer to lock eyes, to grab the younger man’s attention, to have him focus. you listen to me, you feel it don’t you?
the younger man was rocking back and forth, biting his bottom lip.
but you going about it the wrong way, the man shook the younger man’s shoulder, you’re trying to get rid of it boy. he grinned, yellow tobacco stained teeth, grizzled chin, wisps of grey hair blown across his eyes.
the younger man clenched his teeth and finally broke the skin.
it’s the only thing that’s truly yours, he stood up and appraised him one more time before they would start again, it’s the only thing that remains.
he helped the younger man get back on his feet, shaky and sweat drenched. he looked off to the horizon, the sun was setting. now stop fuckin’ about boy. we got work to do.
me
you vile wretched piece of shit, you sad fucking stain of a human being, you gutless worm, you touch anything and it spoils and rots, you’re a fucking disease, you leave blisters on everything you love, you’re an infection on everything that’s decent and human, you’re a forgotten cum stain, you’re an abortion, a severed tendon, a split lip. that’s all you are, fucking damage, you fuck damage, and damage everything you fuck, you’re a fucking weapon, there is no kindness in you, there’s nothing fucking human about you, you mongrel, you cunt, you use people, you break them, you gut them out because you have no heart of your own, you fucking liar, you empty shell, you waste of fucking meat, you and your sad flabby skin, your pathetic little cock, you’re a vermin of a man, you’re just fucking vermin, fucking kill you, i should fucking end you, fucking put your head through a window and cut your fucking neck, put a fucking end to this shit
i turn away
i turn away and he’s blowing me kisses. i turn away and she can’t wait for me to leave. i turn away and i hear him scream before he dies. i turn away and he says i love you. i turn away and it’s night all over again. i turn away and my mother has lost her mind. i turn away and never answer their calls again. i turn away and my friend loses a child. i turn away and my child has no hand. i turn away and she does coke with him. i turn away and she says i want you to come inside me. i turn away and she says i want you to have a heart attack right now, i want you dead right now. i turn away and don’t say i’m sorry. i turn away and he says sorry for all the things he’s done to me. i turn away and she says she’s sorry for the all things she’s done to me. i turn away and they say her child could be mine. i turn away and i can’t stand to look at her child. i turn away and at 80 miles per hour let go of the steering wheel. i turn away and it’s suddenly dawn. i turn away and let go of her hand one last time. i turn away and he’s dead. i turn away and she’s dead. i turn away and there were tic tacs by his broken body. i turn away and he looks like clay in the casket. i turn away and she has me in her mouth. i turn away and she has him in her mouth. i turn away and they all leave. i turn away and she’s says she doesn’t know, it’s different now. i turn away and she says i’ve ruined her. i turn away and i’ve broken her. i turn away without stopping.
the trick
my boy, he said, gristle stuck between his two front teeth, my boy the trick is to believe the lie you are living.
i get that, i said, whittling away at a branch we had found. pieces split from the blade landed on the stream, floating downward. i’m not stupid you know. i’ve done this sort of thing before.
yes boy, he shook his head, tried with his tongue to get at the gristle. yes, you have but this is a different sort of thing. they’re all wise to our kind these days. you see the stupid ones get plastered all over the news. they even had a documentary once.
he finally fingered his tooth and inspected what had been caught there. it was a between infomercials, i dont think anyone noticed it.
he flicked it away, which isn’t the point. they know we’re out there and we have to be careful. he pointed a thick finger at me, you my boy, you just starting out.
he smiled, new territory for you.
you cant say no, can you?
you fucking fool, you cant say no can you? you cant muster the fucking courage and say no to this wretched fucking existence, to this fucking parking space of a life, to your cock in your hand jerking off uselessly into the mouths of rats
you cant say fucking no to the lice you pick out of your crotch and swallow. you cant say no to the whole world fingering your caked and dry asshole. you cant say no to the split and torn mess that is its pussy, clotted and thick and full of choked fetuses and you put your mouth right on it, and lapping it up like a stew, like the stray fucking mongrel you are
you cant say no to jamming one dirty needle into your balls and thrashing it around until the urine and blood and sperm blend into one and the pressure shoots a stream out your sack as you pull the needle out and slide it your into your nipple, not even a fucking twitch you sad sorry bastard, plunging it along, hitting the plunger, shitting yourself, hot and itchy down your leg, the needle even deeper, you cant fucking say no as it pierces the aorta and you shoot it all up, your cum, blood and piss, right up in there, right into the blood stream.
you realize, clumps of feces around your ankles, what you’ve completely forgotten in your little cocktail, what you’ve left out. you pull the needle out, bend down and scoop up a handful. of course, of course, you fucking cant say no, can you?
head twat
like most men, she made the mistake of thinking with her twat for the short term without using her head for the long run.
sometimes i wonder if i would ever know how truly greedy she was.
pretend with me
i love being a father because i learn to be all the things he wasn’t. i learn how to control the rage within me as my child throws a tantrum and i want to do nothing but hold her in her place, to let her know that i am the rock upon which all her fears can break.
i love being a father because i exaggerate my face and make funny sounds and keep all the howling within me at bay. i can redirect the tension and the confusion of just being in the world into sharp focus: take her hands, teach her to dance, try to get this silly little clown to follow some sort of rhythm.
i love being a father because i get to make it up as i go along. i get to be someone other than myself. i learn to be something bigger and stronger and more beautiful than i could ever be. in my child’s eyes i get to be alive even when i am dead inside. i can pretend that i am not broken. we can pretend all the scars inside are healed.
subjugation
they laughed, they took a bite out of his shoulder, chewed on it, thought it over. they spat it back in his face. not enough, they said, you’re worthless, you’re spittle after a meal. you’re our urine after we take a shit. you’re the cum we forget to wipe off that dries down the length of our thighs.
they took turns, they tickled him until he bled, until snot came out of his nose in thick drabs of bloody mucus. he cries, they said, look, he cries like a monkey without his banana. they ran a nail along his scrotum, a testicle bled out. just like a monkey, they said and with a thin pinky fished out the other one. they skinned his penis to dab their mouths.
and when they began to separate the ribs off his spine, plucking them as they went along, as if they were listening for a tune, he was relieved that the choice had been his, that whatever laid ahead the second after they reached over and pierced his sternum, was his and his alone.
the creepy crawlies
these fucking hands all over me like they fucking know me like they’ve been there millions of times before, these dirty fucking hands from work, from washing dishes, from breaking up the street, from piercing tongues, from counting money, these fucking hands that think they know it all poking and prodding me along, up my ass, up my spine, jammed into the back of my throat, fat cruddy fingers with split nails and cracked skin grabbing a hold of my hair like i want it, grabbing me by my teeth, like i’ve been fucking waiting for them, waiting to fuck them of all people, like i’ve been waiting to be fucked when i’ve been fucked over and over already by hands just like theirs, just like these, just like mine pushing my eyes in.