Oct 2017
BASED ON A TRUE STORY
[the true part]
you got there and I was already breathless. I'd been waiting all day for some sort of release, let's say, and when you arrived it felt like that was good enough already, as if there was some sort of ****** in your eyes. you came through the gate, went into my room, and at first we struggled through trying to figure out how to speak to each other after being inside of one another so soon, you spoke slow.
we smoked in my bedroom and the fumes [re: our fumes] went inside my ceiling and out of the fan, maybe just into the walls as if they were lead rooting, sticking, planting itself inside of the dry paint, coming out to make me sick one of these nights that you're somewhere else. the light turned off, the clothes came off, but I still saw an orange hue. I stopped and turned, we were both high and you were kissing on my neck, we didn't understand how to allow our bodies to just do what they wanted to and you didn't quite understand my hesitation. Infatuation tastes like gasoline and I looked at you in my dark room but swore I saw a light, a spark of some sort, I imagined the room on fire, ignored it, searched for your lips through the darkness but quickly opened my eyes to red and orange in my peripheral vision. I failed chemistry but here we are, I'm searching for cigarette ash in my bed hours after you've left because I swear to god, I swear to god we turned orange.
I sat there thinking about how I was going to write about my come to Jesus moment. could emotional, mental and completely internalized connection manifest into a physical light? Is there such a power in skin on skin, mouth on mouth, your tongue on my teeth all the way to my ******* knees?
An hour or so later we were sharing water [a spiritual post-*** experience] and you were chain smoking outside while I rested peacefully in my bed, naked, staring at the way you inhale. We were talking about something [my music taste vs yours? the story of my sisters ex-boyfriends suicide or maybe my dads drug addiction? your pattern with girls that wanna make you their boyfriend and each time you got suspended from grade school up until they outed you to your mom?] and I turned- the light was back, it was coming from inside of your mouth, it was coming from the way you breathe.
Maybe we were talking about ******* in your studio because you now have a key or the possibility of going as Rose McGowan and Marilyn Manson for Halloween. It wouldn't really matter because the orange shows up when you're there.
[the true part]
you got there and I was already breathless. I'd been waiting all day for some sort of release, let's say, and when you arrived it felt like that was good enough already, as if there was some sort of ****** in your eyes. you came through the gate, went into my room, and at first we struggled through trying to figure out how to speak to each other after being inside of one another so soon, you spoke slow.
we smoked in my bedroom and the fumes [re: our fumes] went inside my ceiling and out of the fan, maybe just into the walls as if they were lead rooting, sticking, planting itself inside of the dry paint, coming out to make me sick one of these nights that you're somewhere else. the light turned off, the clothes came off, but I still saw an orange hue. I stopped and turned, we were both high and you were kissing on my neck, we didn't understand how to allow our bodies to just do what they wanted to and you didn't quite understand my hesitation. Infatuation tastes like gasoline and I looked at you in my dark room but swore I saw a light, a spark of some sort, I imagined the room on fire, ignored it, searched for your lips through the darkness but quickly opened my eyes to red and orange in my peripheral vision. I failed chemistry but here we are, I'm searching for cigarette ash in my bed hours after you've left because I swear to god, I swear to god we turned orange.
I sat there thinking about how I was going to write about my come to Jesus moment. could emotional, mental and completely internalized connection manifest into a physical light? Is there such a power in skin on skin, mouth on mouth, your tongue on my teeth all the way to my ******* knees?
An hour or so later we were sharing water [a spiritual post-*** experience] and you were chain smoking outside while I rested peacefully in my bed, naked, staring at the way you inhale. We were talking about something [my music taste vs yours? the story of my sisters ex-boyfriends suicide or maybe my dads drug addiction? your pattern with girls that wanna make you their boyfriend and each time you got suspended from grade school up until they outed you to your mom?] and I turned- the light was back, it was coming from inside of your mouth, it was coming from the way you breathe.
Maybe we were talking about ******* in your studio because you now have a key or the possibility of going as Rose McGowan and Marilyn Manson for Halloween. It wouldn't really matter because the orange shows up when you're there.
