Monday, April 15, 2013

Imperfection -

The stunning incapacity of most to cope with their imperfections.  Classic recipe for self-loathing maximus and status quo for dandruff digging wedgie popping reactionary flaming from all across the income spectrum.  None are acquitted this easy peasy beautiful cover-girl fascination, vanity rearing like a 4am enema to wake one from REM sleep, lilt sideways in silence and demand a compliment for such interruption as you rub the crust from reddened eyes and massage your sore ass (but oh so clean, no?).

Blow me.  I say, back.

Figures, prissy indignation flaunts a jowl in response, not one to be outdone.  Loose as all hell--the jowl--should be turned in for dollar bills it is so loose, and flaps away in our cramped shared space as if it is possible to extricate himself from our intertwined being.  You wouldn't be saying that if you'd worked out effectively instead of eating those brownies while watching charlie rose and looking hard at the screen like deep thoughts could be shred in a staring contest, while I went back to laying on my back, waiting for your attention, knowing that you'd come in with your small regret and your quote unquote needs later, after my needs had been withered with loneliness and isolated self-referential paranoia.

And I wonder is he different.  This time will he be different.  Will he want to fuck me hard because he saw it in a porn video or will he want to fuck me hard because he thinks it proper to be fucking hard.  No matter the feedback.  No matter the guttural primitive cheapness of the boozy sweat, or the knees shaking from the lack of exercise, the pit of a chest and the over-eager whimpering.  What am I, anyway, his nanny?  His nurse?  His mastermind slut?  Is that the best one?  The mastermind slut ninja arms akimbo in stationary, silent, blissful, passivity?

I'm an alcoholic and I can't get out. My vanity is my drink and my drink is my vanity and all is within and all is without and I am not privy to making distinctions as simple as you and me. And fuck me it is hard to live sometimes.

No comments: