you're woven out of the smell of
sex, hypocrisies that cry for reason
in the middle of hallways at 2 am
and of unplanned pregnancies that never
came but went
something like this:
i tried
i tried
i tried
and sometimes when your hands were silent
long enough, when they stopped grabbing
for something of a different texture,
sometimes, you helped.
but i wasn't thinking straight those days,
my mind lived inside of a thousand beer
bottles spent and the last drag of every
cigarette i could no longer feel the burn
from. that is where i lived
but i knew your name, the taste of your
resin-covered fingers. i knew what to
expect from you, the things you would say,
the things
you just couldn't and that
was more than enough for me, but see,
it has always gone something like that
with me and the strangers who become
my friends and eventually something more,
everything more until they're nothing more
to me. that is where we live.
stuck somewhere between what we need
and what we only need to forget:
we try
we try
we try
to find the need to forget but i'm lying here
soaked with love and with your seed all
over me, dying in the threads of
another wasted shot at an
unplanned pregnancy.
with you.
my beautiful brown-eyed
hypocrisy.

04/09/2003

Author's Note: this is all so past-tense. seems a lifetime ago. maybe it is.

Posted on 04/10/2003
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