Wednesday, June 13, 2012

hatshepsut by shepaestus

yes, engendered, transgendered--by way of graffiti and sculptured--and encrypted. such preserves are a sweet marmalade of sacred underwear. i'm the product of, shall we remember, a mormon so goth he pierced his scrotum and wore a black leather trenchcoat. and what my mother nearly vomited at: a MasterLock in his first real boyfriend, my first love...a mormon with a liquor carpinet in his armoire, meth in his blood and hatred deep in his self. the time i saw him after we lost our virginities awkwardly--his long slender digits unrolling his treasured black condom, his smile flashing bashful, "actually i'm a virgin" and me relieved "me too!" and his long, long, curiously unpainful penis lightsabering deep until "OH" and wide terrified blue pools "i lost it" and slithering back out soft and me actually joules upon jolts of merriment that at least it'd always be a marshmallow to tender a gorgeous toast--he was shockingly strong as he roared and threw me high at the wall, and him being 6'2" meant that i had seven feet to fall in bewildered terror and heartbreak....

and he doesn't get it, or care, or understand why yelling only makes me slam against that blue-white wall while being slapped and fondled and raped and shoved and told i'm disgusting because of my belly and only worth raping...or that doing it online only makes me remember his disgusted face as he elbowed or smacked me away, not the faces he had last time...and i can only stop the PTSD once it's started because when he yells i'm in all that and my heart's just gone and my breathing turns into hyperventilation, and i have to monitor my panic attack until i can't feel my heart anymore. then i can start coming down, but heaven forbid i'm haunted by his angry face...because then i come down, spike, come down, spike, come down, spike a little less...sometimes over a few days.

nothing else gets to me like that anymore.

encryption is all i can deal in here, zeus being the one man i'd never want to mock here, despite his complete lack of interest in snooping. i like that about him; we're both curious about things in each other's life, but have no use for sniffing around. what we share is what we are. the one thing i'll smirk about his head. he looks like a cancer-ridden alien, and i ought to know because larry had brain cancer and this is just as bad. and i know everyone from MSSD and gally would swear up and down and all around the word for 80 days if they could see zeus scowling and hissing and whining at me about all the things i tell him he's lucky not to experience that OH MY MY OH HELL YES you hain't met mean ol' beth!...

cuz, hey, one-hole pricky is still one-hole pricky. tellin' me that you desperately want to fuck me again and fix our first time, that you still dream about it, that you're willing to leave your girlfriend if you can't cheat on her...for a weekend, anyway, and then marry her...and then that i'm psycho, too depressed to deal with life without more intensive therapy, that i'm not healthy enough for a boyfriend because i've told you: i am thoroughly disgusted with you and thankful that i prefer being single and childfree to such shittiness...and you had better thank your lucky stars that i don't FB your girlfriend and copy and paste your pathetic lardass just so stupid and thoughtless that your bloated self just ended up exposed enough for anyone who cares.

and zeus, haha, he goes, "you made fun of me for this, and for that," and i counter with the truth, which is, "i mentioned them after you'd left me because those are two things you better bet your ass would've ended up on everybody's wagging tongue and snickered about for years, and would totally circulate if my autobio ever gets published." and he just doesn't get it, but you guys know how i love watching guys' eyes alarm and their shoulders shrink. mmm, that's one long cool drink for me, watching guys who cheat or belittle their girls become less.

so all i'll say is that his hair is too beautiful for me to handle this weird flat-backed egghead bobbing alongside mine. the man--i never knew. me, it's obvious with almost any haircut, it's my shame...him, oh, his lustrous curls are what made me fall for him. we'd been kissing awhile and i wasn't too into him, and he was desperate--to make me--and i was all, why would i, a guy looks like yuh? and i'd pat his knee and say instead, "oh, you're just too're no don't want to go to college..." and salivate over the idea of springing, "you're ugly, seriously, and it makes me feel sick to actually be kissing you when we're not hanging out, but you're so good at it i'm learning to handle it," only i'd realize that i felt protective of him, happy to be with him sexually, actually proud of who he was...and absolutely wretched instead of gleeful.

his hair! one day he just hadn't slicked it back and i literally fell in love with him just a little, and knew it was a sure thing, the soft ringlets in my hands the way breasts must feel to their lovers, just melting me into every crevice of his...and he was all, "huh!? but the curls make me undeniably mexican," and that was a staggering blow.

i've never been able to deal with him the way i can and do other men. it's kind of silly, it's really very stupid, but part of the reason my PTSD is so easily triggered when he says something scornful or in direct conflict with what he's said because when we were together back in '10 he'd yowl and shove and hiss and mock, "i'm nothing but a mexican," which has hurt my heart more than just about anything i've seen.

it's like little grey beating himself in the head and growling, "i'm stupid," because he can't read a lick, after two years of hitting and kicking, biting and scratching, after four weeks of not wanting to get close to him or tutor him because i've seen him bite everyone else, and seeing that really he is a seven-year-old boy who needs someone to put his hands away.

i can't unsee all those twisted faces and snarls. i can't unfeel the shoves and backhanded slaps. for some reason they've become a part of me...and either it's sick or it's empathic to the extreme. i used to want to take clint's pain away. zeus, i think, can unfold and redistribute the wisdom of the original cruel origami of his childhood heartbreaks.

which is the only reason he speaks to me, resonates within me. his eyes are pure fury when he thinks i've just called him stupid by explaining something he hadn't known, so lurid with "i will fucking remember this for life" that i smile and he thinks further mires but i'm smiling because i can't wait for him to swipe that claw at me in seventeen years: "thought i'd forget!?" no, you're way too smart for me to dodge your lightning bolt so i won't even try to duck your thunder.

and all i want, all i really want, is to be on top as zeus kisses me like this:

Passenger (Deftones)

Here I lay
Still unbreathless
Just like always
Still I want some more
Mirrors sideways
Who cares what's behind
Just like always
Still your passenger
Chrome buttons, buckles and leather surfaces
These and other lucky witnesses
Now to calm me
This time won't you please
Drive faster
Roll the windows down
This cool night air is curious
Let the whole world look in
Who cares who sees anything
I'm your passenger
I'm your passenger
Drop these down and
Put them on me
Nice cool seats
There to cushion your knees
Now to calm me
Take me around again
Just don't pull over
This time would you please drive faster
Roll the windows down
This cool night air is curious
Let the whole world look in
Who cares who sees what tonight
Roll these misty windows down
To catch my breath
And then go and go and go just drive me
Home and back again
Here I lay just like always
Don't let me go
Take me to the edge

he's the only stick i'll shift into my mouth.

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