She Asks Me,
She asked me, anonymously, “why don’t you love me anymore?”
I told her, “I never did. I just loved that costume you’d wear for me. I never even realized there was a person under it all. I thought it was a series of automated responses. I thought it was battery plugged into something mechanized.”
Her eyes are soft and sad, like somewhere I could lay down and stay for a while. Curl up tight upon yourself, and just cry yourself to sleep. Cry me to sleep. Cry me a nice little river to drown in. Hold me down, tears seeping into my lungs like ocean water. Like dying under perfectly clear waves.
Like dying frozen under glass.
She asks me, anonymously, “do you still think about me?”
I tell her, maybe. I tell her, sometimes. I tell her, what I think she wants or needs to hear. I tell her what I have to, the words forcing themselves out of my mouth like a viral attack. My ideas in her head, my little letters spelling out messages in her head.
This is one of them. Her robot head was swapped with yours, and now you’re thinking her same thoughts too. The plagiarism of ideals; a pirate radio broadcast of internalized frequencies. Get off my heart-beat. She gets off, on my heart-beat.
She asks me, anonymously, “do you think we’ll ever fuck?”
I’m not sure what she’d call this.
Her clockwork heart slows, and spits a broken gear into the sand.
This Is What Going Nowhere Reads Like
Sing a sexy song about terrorism, sing me six pence worth of violence in the night.
We’re driving out in the night, we’re driving out after dark, light turned all down low.
Turned down low like rejecting your lover’s lovers.
Turned down low like somebody you don’t want to see anymore.
We’re telling lies like we’re living lives; making mythologies mighty against the mundane sufferings of other people’s existences.
I thought it was them or us, but it turned out that there’s some still some Thems amongst the Us’s as well. Just because you’re not normal doesn’t mean your exactly like me; I have trouble seeing that, when I’m looking for things in common - abstract reasoning on rorschach friendships.
You see what you want to see. I want to see you, but I don’t want to see you as you are, I want to see you as you were, in my mind, when I was thinking about you and me and us against them and, you know, guns and glory and hard-living, hard-loving, and a handful of dirt and passion in the eyes of any authority figures.
Ah, but what did I come dressed as? I was a fake character the whole time you knew me, and now things are otherwise again.
I’m outside again.
All Her Truths Between Us Now
“How did we get moving so fast?” I try to ask her over the friction of us burning like match-heads against the wind. I feel the sensation of molecules burnings against my flesh, I can feel myself ready to ignite from motion.
She grins at me like she’s biting off my head after fornication.
She grins at me, all sugary syrups and sharp little teeth and blood-kissed lipsticks.
I’ve never seen her lips stick on anything that wasn’t dangerously full of drugs or the potential for love or violence. I’ve never heard her sing a song that wasn’t about fucking or kill or gouging away or smoking up.
The car is shaking like it could fly apart, a satellite dissolving as it enters earth’s atmosphere. The condom is starting to melt, threatening to allow my cock to coast along the interior of her cunt without anything between us.
“The only thing that’s ever stood between us is the truth,” she tells me, just as the whole thing starts to break into its component pieces - our relationship reduced to a hail of birdshit in the rain.
And I can tell that, now, when her naked body is rubbing up against mine at speeds like these; she’s right, she’s right, she’s a thousand times right.
The only things that’s between us anymore is the truth.
The Truth, a young stripper we picked up three miles back, looks up from my lap and into hers. She’s stretched out between us like a sex toy, like a novelty for the purpose of orgasms, like a trusted friend without a word to add to the conversation.
The background blurs invisible.
We drive on and on and on and on an’ on an’ on an on anon.
She Said: She Saw: She Thought
She’s watching me hesitate. She’s watching me come closer to her, like I think I’m invisible and hunting her.
Just ‘cause she can see through me, doesn’t mean she doesn’t know I’m not there.
I came to her searching out sanctuary, looking for a place to hide. I was hoping she could help me with some issues I’d been repressing for a while, I was hoping she could expose my secret side and give my alternate identities a chance to get out in the sun for a while.
Now she’s got me in her eyes like a loose piece of glass; no peace there. Now she’s got me in her eyes like something a doctor would have to take out with tweezers and a bright light. Now she’s got me in her mouth like a password she doesn’t want to say.
Now she’s got me in her
heart mouth like something she doesn’t want to spit out.