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By darwin Date: 2006 Jun 07 Comment on this Work [[2006.06.07.13.27.10367]] |
| I have had these lines wandering around my head for weeks. Lines that seem to have written the book of my life on the lines of my body. Chapters written at night, in the dark, while I whisper those secrets I never want to share. How can you share a life of dishonesty with yourself? Those sometimes-desperate measures are all in the name of having someone to hold you. All you want to hear is that you are what someone wants. The hard reality that loneliness is better with someone in the room and between your legs, then loneliness in an empty room. Cats can only do so much to keep you company, with the daily routines of feedings. Feeding them, feeding you. It's like this cancer that eats away at your heart. Days and weeks spread into years. Years hiding yourself behind your weakness. The shallow truth that you can't be alone. So with that you reach out to the next body that comes its way, and imagine him to be that charming stranger that children dream about while their mothers read them bedtime stories. The ugly duckling turns into a swan. The princess somehow finds her prince even after she went through horrors. But it doesn't tell you the people she fucked while waiting for them. Or the tears that she shed quietly in her bathroom while others waited in the other room, just beyond that plywood door. It doesn't tell about the times she washed herself in the bathtub because that kind of sin just doesn't wash off. It doesn't tell you that in the company of strangers, she fucked her way through life. |