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[ shimmering]
my
tin horn boy and get wet like an angel derail
drive boy dog boy dirty numb angel boy.
you are my drug boy you’re real boy speak to me
let your feeling slip boy but never your mask
she was a beautiful boy and tears boy and all in your innerspace boy
blonde bio high density blonde rhythm boy
dirty numb cracking boy you get wet boy big time boy
you had hands girl boy and steel boy you had chemicals boy
you got a velvet mouth you’re so succulent and beautiful shimmering
and dirty wonderful
babes and babes and babes and remembering nothing boy
hot times on your telephone line and god and everything on your telephone
everything is muted
here: sound, sight, smell.
the sky goes from gray
morning into somehow menacing black night, and there are no clouds.
after about three days,
he notices that he doesn’t have to eat anymore.
they are guided by their
most primal instincts: hunger and lust and fear.
fear is thick, it tastes
like metal, metal in your mouth, on your tongue. it tastes of blood
that will be spilled, and when they push him against the bricks, the gun
between his teeth, he tastes fear.
the other one chain-smokes,
weed-tobacco-crack chain that never ends, and he is serene. he smiles.
maybe he doesn’t know, boy thinks, doesn’t know the sharp twang of fear.
maybe he doesn’t care.
‘he’s been to the pit,”
they tell him. “so he smokes.”
he is beyond fear, boy
understands.
and life is reduced
to two thin white tracks on the table, powder-soft.
i want.
boy finds glitter one
day, and paints their walls with flowers and swirls and stars pretty twisted
psychedelic shapes. the other one smiles again, but for the first time he
might have seen.
blinks.
“hello,” he says, and
that. is that.
“have you ever tried?”
the other one asks. and. cheekbones.
“no”.
the needle is sharp
and the world is spinning, no turning back, no getting off the carousel
ride, hang on for your life.
cheekbones, yes, and
the ceiling begins to cave in he smiles smiles smiles and also. mouth
and little waif teeth tongue hot hot hot.
spinning.
dirty.
shimmering dirty wonderful.
world.
gun between boy’s teeth
and he smiles. he smiles.
muted noise, noise is
muted here – neat little hole in the other one’s stomach.
does it hurt? boy wonders.
he smiles. yes,
he does.
blood shimmering out
of the corner of his mouth. tastes salt and metal and fear – his own fear
there, but the other one isn’t afraid.
boy closes his eyes
and thinks: needles.
in the morning the other
one is gone, might have melted into the air, thin morning air.
shimmering.
boy finds a golden maple
leaf on the sidewalk next day. “his blood,” boy knows. “but then
it must be red.”
he takes the leaf home
anyway, puts it in a glass.
after a week it shrinks
and dies.
“it might have lived
if i remembered to water it,” boy thinks. “but they all die.”
they all die in the
end.
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