Chubby Kid on a Floating Board

You never gave me a chance to see you half-naked, greasy, gunslinger. (Promises, promises.) My asshole will never heal. Salves, creams, powders, prayers. I am resigned. Let the rape begin! It doesn’t matter anymore, anyway. Red sparkles. Stupid pantyhose. I am hiding the following sentence within my other sentences so you won’t detect it. If you took me away for a number of hours, and filleted my skin, promising me water for my wounds, all the while privileging me with tender kisses, calling me the worst names and then returned me, broken, a box full of blood, I think I would continue loving you. Tape gun. Parking fees. Guillotine. You have more friends. I have none. I lost them in 1987, the summer my dad fuck-you’d the family. When I am counting, I lay my head on your chest. It’s always warmer than I expect. It’s the best dream I can have while awake. I don’t know where you are.