The Man Who Invented History
hat other boy comes to me late at night and early in the morning, comes to make me crazy, comes to yank my chain, comes to say low and hissing in my hear yeah baby you want it and you need it but you ain't getting any cause it's mine son all mine.
greedy fuck but man o manson so fucking hot looking, all jailhouse tats and pretty face puckered lips and dirty blonde hair in his eyes and smooth, yeah buddy, skin like fucking polished maple greasy and smelling like fresh killed meat.
now start again.
somebody playing sad-ass goth music in the room next door, plaintive riffs making like death's a holiday and not some party where everyone's invited and nobody wants to go. dig the problem with cooler-than-thou roommates their sideways vibes, their stupid piercings, their black rooms, black clothes, dyed black hair, the sweet sick stink of pot in the air 24 hours a day it's less than zero, roscoe, it's shit on a stick.
now again.
see that boy figures it's easy and that's the problem, no challenge no test just one smile, one frown, one quick shot of his naked belly and it's his for keeps, and that boy being a mean motherfuck wants more than just another gaping aperture drooling juice, needs a battle, needs a fight to the finish, wants a war where men bleed for real and die hard deaths. can't blame him really so totally hot cool and phat for the slaughter he is, sharp teeth and sharper tongued.
make sense.
who to be today: him or me? simple shit for your average nimrod who doesn't even ask or if so asks his rotund missus mother who sparkle-eyed replies why honeybunny you can be anybody you want or like, it's a great big beautiful tomorrow! and yeah i suppose that's the point, today, tomorrow, yesterday, all the same shit, the same stupid questions without answers, the same face in the mirror but with one dif: you don't recognize it at first, are you still dreaming, you ask?, but no you're up awake alert burning with the noonday sun in your head and if it's not a mirror, it's certainly a window and looking to what soul is left. so i guess i need to start again, huh?
yes.
next door sounds of moaning groaning the old in-out is it real or it memorex?