02 February 2012

Being Honest With My Self



Sometimes I masturbate in front of the mirror because I am a narcissist. 

Other times I lie alone in the dark and under the covers
imagining lovers I have had in the past
in succession as if they all know each other.

I think that still makes me a narcissist because it is all about my own pleasure. 

I don’t really care if they come or not. 

I used to care, when I was a girl and boys couldn’t get me off to save their lives, much less know what or where a clit is. 

Sometimes now it is fun to train them
telling them lick here,
finger with a come hither motion;

other times, it is just annoying that they don’t already know. 

When I find one that does know, and knows maybe better than I do, it’s exciting
at first, but then I am always worried that I cannot match them,
especially men with long
endurance, hard bodies that keep pounding long after I’ve lost feeling
in the backs of my thighs, and my ass is a strawberry. 

He’s a brick wall and a steam engine,
lets me know that I am with a man, not a bitch. 

If I wanted to be with a bitch, I’d be with a woman, and I mean bitch as a positive word for women, negative for men.  No man wants to be called a bitch. 

My girlfriends and I call each other bitch and cunt to reclaim words that have been twisted to fit “society,” and by “society” we know that I mean rich old white guys. 

On South Park last night, the kids start using the word fag to refer to men who ride Harleys, so just because someone is gay doesn’t mean they’re a fag. 

The biker dudes look up fag in the dictionary and end up with seven different definitions that have been used over time, the medieval stick collector making meager wages, a bundle of sticks, and cigarettes, and then in the twentieth century it began to be used as a pejorative term for LGBTQ people. 

Whatever the progression was from cigarette to queer, it made no logical sense and it’s like “they” are just fucking with us for shits and gigs. 

The thing is, I have eaten all the Fig Newtons, which you were probably saving for a digestif to your Ramen Noodles—

the thinner you get, the more I am wasted in the afternoon and passed out by midnight while you’re still raging dub-step and 80’s flashbacks in the wood panel basement,

Jay’s stupid ass dog eating trash off the floor when he’s got a bowl full of food in the kitchen. 

The dog ended up running away from him several months later and I don’t blame him, he left him in the crate all day while he was at work and he would cry like a little baby,

he always walked kind of funny, his front two paws pointing outward and his whole backside would wiggle when he wagged his tail, jocked his head and gave a yell out the Mercedes hand-me-down wind

blowing back my blonde hair like a black and white movie girl but you know her lipstick’s red and right when I think I’ve got control of my affairs,

they slip out of my reach again, my scarf pulled by the wind out of the convertible and run over by the following semi truck,

a black tread printed on the Bristol pink chiffon,
lifted on someone’s front lawn on the way back from Harrisburg,

the metal curd of southern Pennsylvania turnpikes,
hot wire spikes pressed into his back for robotic acupuncture therapy,
master bedroom territory in the Louisiana Purchase,

the church ushers passing the grass collection basket down aisles of couples blushing about what they did last night

is a long way from Sunday mourning for your sins like you did something wrong by being human,

the fumes stink in the room from termite-infested floor-boards,
bored through gas pipes underground,
they’ve eaten through the New Orleans levy,
sold his old Chevy like a man in a shitty country song lost his dead dog and woman.

I lost my soul for three hundred dollars,
my flip flops through a hole in my head from too much acid

the government says you’re legally insane after you’ve dropped eight times, but that’s really an indefinite measurement
because every dose is different and you never know what you’re gonna get like Forrest Gump and Jenny going hump in the night,

that must have been an awkward morning, but then again maybe not, he probably was stupid enough to treat her right.

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