Thursday, October 28, 2010

I give myself something

I give me something

I know my heart, I walk the line. I know what it takes…but can't help it. She knows the right way to do things. I don't. She is great and massive. I am young and small. I like playing with fire. She tells me it's wrong. I like playing with him she tells me it's wrong. I like playing with myself; she tells me it's wrong. Then I snap, he plays with his thing all the time, she says he is only three…I m five and I m not allowed playing with myself.

I know your heart. You don't walk the line. I know what it takes…but you can help it. You are shadowy and sad, you have eaten yourself; devoured yourself. Or has he done it for you. You don't play…I heard him but I didn’t hear you. He meows but you don’t. They say you are missing a part. But I don’t understand how…I m eleven and I meow, since you don’t know anymore that I play with myself and he is nine and he plays with his thing too.

I know his heart. He walks different lines. He doesn't know what it takes…but he can't help it. He is big and ugly. He has done bad things to you and me. He is always angry and he beats you. I know because you don't let him …from the back. He says you are not good, that you are bad. But I don’t believe him. I know you are generous; you gave me a lot of you. You gave him a clean tiny place of you that you don’t know how amazing it is. When you got wet I could see right through that satanic satin night gown. He doesn’t see what I see. He did to me what they did to you, I m missing a part too but I still play with myself, I m fifteen and I do it, he is only thirteen and he still plays with his thing too.

I know their heart. They don’t walk at all. They don’t know what it takes…But they can't help it. They are scary feathers scattered everywhere. They smile like hogs and cry like wolfs. They cheat and lay. They crave and hide. They long and demand and they are never sure. I make them sure, because I meow. They fear me, like hungry fried sticks they come to me to be assured that they are not yet fried. They wonder aimlessly as a child. But they come to me. They don’t know that I am missing a part because I feel. I defy and I feel. I have a stance and I feel. I bring myself to feel unlike you. I don’t feel I am impotent because I can. I give myself pleasure more than anyone else does. They can't take that away from me.

You know the part they took away…you know what I did with it.I took it in my hand and whispered gently to it. I lulled it that when it goes in the dust it comes back to my soul. To feed me, to heal me, to breed me; to cure me…to love me. I chopped it and scattered around my bed and the rest I have it buried under there. And so I am seventy five and I play with myself and he is seventy three and he doesn’t know how to get it up right.

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