January 24, 2011 - 9:05 p.m.
Sometimes
in an attempt to feel free
we just end up feeling dirty
spit in your cup,
get the taste out of my mouth-dirty
and i dont'feel used
i feel like I said all the right things and still ended up with a cock in my mouth
shocked
un expectant
The dialogue was clear:
I just want to make a few things known:
I wont' get emotional, wont get attached.
I have no expectations.
I won't treat you like an object, unless you ask me to...
Let's get one thing straight: I am a lesbian. I think men are mostly ridiculous. I even, to some extent, find you ridiculous,
all 'action movie' and girls bent over in vulnerable positions... guy-like
I reel, in my mind, through the possible STIs of a night like this. You don't believe, because I have a paper bag of condoms (which my dad gave me as a joke, after a conference on health where a girl he thought I should meet was promoting sexual health, and gave him as part of her promotional 'job'). I have a bag of rainbow condoms in my bathroom drawer.
which I will never use,
except that I might, unless I get too freaked out by the idea of what might happen to me, in my head if I let myself go
down that rabbit-hole-road, where I stop having control of how I am viewed and what happens to me
My 14 year old self floods back into me, terrified that I will die of meningitis after kissing Graham Bond. What will happen to me, when I shatter my world, let the outside in, let go of the stays that have held me up. I know.
when you tell me
my body
is beautiful under your hands
and when i see the way your skin reacts
to my touch
that I have a problem
here
on my hands
in my head
that I am playing with fire
feeling so
out of my element
sucking cliches between tongue and cheek
fucking terrified of what it means for me
that I let you
into my play-world and let it become real
for a second
i cannot become my untouchable self again
and must simply be
okay
with having been
handled
turned over
and tossed back
into my own thoughts
no amount of thinking
can settle the disquiet of having the world shake
deliberatly,
under my own sense of...
pick my self
back up
off the floor
re-straighten the sheets
destroy my own name
re-orient myself
and spit
into the glass
to shake, silent, and uncertain
towards another day,
where my mouth
has new truth to tell
and another face
behind
this face
with nothing
left to say.
Mr. M. Miss C.
A game I cannot decide
if I am ready or able to play.
