three steps.

the process of disillusionment :

  • when i told you about the man with one completely black eye, iris and all, you told me to stay away from the devil. i sighed. "but he was the only one who would listen to my story" i said and  you said nothing.

  • after i double clicked the folder all i saw was limbs. she was lying on your bed, waiting for you, her legs long and skinny and yours familiar, that creamy ivory. you were crawling on top of her, i could almost taste the subtle vanilla scent of you. i wanted to keep watching, i don't know why. maybe i'm a pervert, or masochistic, crazy. her in the video on bed, you on top of her, me in the chair; watching, you next to me, we all knew you were going to fuck her, it was only the times that were confused. you fumbled and closed the video quick, in it there was a hunt and you were the hunter. you didn't want me to see this. i wondered how she tasted.

  • i remember the periwinkle eyes and her voice singing that beatles song. i remember thinking we must be melting, thinking this is what it's like to be inside of inside. i smelled like you when i got home and i held on to all of this in my head like a band-aid that tries to slip off that you press, remind it that it's sticky and has things to do.

july, july

this summer is a giving.
i just want to be saved.