Thursday, April 26, 2007


I guess this is just me dreaming of the beginning at the end again, and it all seems to risky doesn't it? I make my excuses and leave, only to find you in my bed and it's dark in my room and i see your chest, a little hairy just like before except we are both grown up, at least i am old enough to know my way around now.

You lift up my blanket sheets and i crawl inside and we just kiss, and i remember your taste and the way you touch me, and the redish purple of your lips. It all comes back to me, and i get it now, i understand why you sigh, and i'm dancing up there on you, all dressed in black, but i'm naked, all dressed in black with no smile on.

This is what i look like when i've fallen and i cannot get up, this is what a boy looks like, lost, this is how it tastes to be lonely and in search, when i find my way back to you i know i'm loosing. I look around and we are on a stage, the whole world watching you take what i could never really have hoped to hold on to so young, from a man so driven.

I hold the sheets up around and close my eyes, i want them all gone, but it's too late, the tricks are out, and there is no red ribbon of lusts or duty on your sleeve when you call round my house now.

I wake up and close that window, a little confusion in my wake, and i can't but admit you have been on my mind all day. I can't but admit it feels a little strange when i see your car parked out front and your clutching her hand like you mean it. Do you mean it? I don't think i'm jealous, i barely knew what sex was when you taught me, all of maybe 8 years old, i don't know, maybe i loved you in an innocent way, maybe even liked it? perhaps your not at all to blame for all the crimes i've blessed you with, perhaps your just an easy route for me to forgive myself for becoming what i am, a self centred faggot, but i will always remember you as the man that took me away.

Last summer i swear i saw your car out on the road, there where i stood 4 inches from the edge of slipping over, falling infront of the doctors car. Maybe i hoped you'd kill me, maybe i wished you'd stop and save me. And this summer, 1 year on, i stop and say there is no inprovements in my pockets, no foreseeable smiles to loom my face, when will i be able to tell anyone what it is you did to me? i hear it comming out, its there on my tounge and you say "spit it out i dare you" but i see your car parked out front, i remember the colour of your lips, i remember what it is you taught me - anyone will listen for an hour is you fuck them.

I will never say i am yours again, even though you might smile, even though my brother without realising will stir the situation in passing when he mentions how she starves you of sex. I've said my goodbyes to the doctor and although i may stir and although i might dream, i have closed that window.
When I close a window, I always make it a point that it remains close.

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