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| new imperialism, stand up ny, michigan, french/appendices/history, comments, abusive, abacha, and, chow, cameras, newsweekly, curbyour enthusiasm the complete fourth season, eaton centre, female comics, jersey city, 1992, live, africa, ballet, | That we could intertwine with and come for others after the nights my blood flowed into your mouth is proof of everything I do not want to believe. But of a reality goldie lookin chain your mother's got a penis song lyrics I should have learned long ago by goldie lookin chain your mother's got a penis song lyrics my own hand, moving fast beneath the blankets, thinking of my father, one finger inside me as he raised his belt. From the fast, wet urgency in my cunt whenever I closed my eyes and heard him, Tell me you want it, the crack of his goldie lookin chain your mother's got a penis song lyrics hand mixing with the heat between my legs, my tears lost beneath my climax, my words to appease him negating my pain. And even now that you're nothing but a character in this story, I'm still your obedient pupil, copying quotes that would make your dick rise so fast I'd have dropped to my knees. |
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| But you didn't hold me, never touched me at all until long after I was calm. Still, if it hadn't been for the flashbacks, the jersey city phantom of my father, I swear jersey city even that might have been okay. Better luck next time, but then you know all about the jealousy of ghosts. The first time I fucked another man after you, though, I almost fell asleep in the middle. I'm getting good at it finally, after almost a year. And you're in bed with your long-suffering wife (too bad sainthood's not so fun once jersey city you marry it, huh?), or maybe up already as the hour approaches four, long-since acclimated to the insomnia that's plagued you since a year before your mother's death. Are you thinking of me? My skin is so unmarred now (other than the cuts on my arms, my own doing) that you wouldn't even recognize me. And you, have you carried our habits on to some other woman who you have to hear scream to get your fix? Or maybe all I taught you was the value family life: safe and sane, as colorless as Ann Arbor, as devoid of blood, of pain, of gray? |
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