alexsbanks:

Social Acceptability of Aggression

There are eyes staring at me from behind the trees in my backyard
Swallowing their spit
Staring past the depths with which I have always seen
waiting since my childhood with baited breath as the years go by

But what sense is it to make a decision when
Everything you do is a means to the same end.

Two things happen when I am extremely stressed out. I want to sleep and masturbate. Sometimes at the same time.
A few times I have woke up in the middle of a masturbation dream only to find myself grinding my groin all over the mattress.
Life mimics art, I suppose.

The art is the FUCK.
Lies within twisted, mangled limbs
And the desperation of college girls,
Trying hard to get fucked when all they have to do is show up.

Fat girls everywhere pretending they’re Bettie Page
Mercifully forgetting that Bettie Page was skinny.

But everyone loves a dumb girl who will laugh at everything they say
Carelessly holding a long island in one hand
Fixing her hair with the other.
And the men watch the girl’s throat shift as she chokes down her drinks
Dreaming of a dick suck
& her contorting throat
Everything is sex.
Everything’s mundane.

But what’s more offensive, the violence or the sex?

I feel like my bones are melting.
Every imperfection unavoidably rearing its ugly head
The wretchedness just begging to be loved
When I would rather vomit directly in its face than hold its hand.
For some reason everything seems seedier in print.

And they’re approaching. Shouting – screaming, actually.
Coming in waves of twos and threes.
Where once they looked like writhing maggots, all mucus-y spit and squirming.
Strings of guts oozing out between their teeth
Clenching their jaws for the death blow.

And the stadium laughs at this pathetic lump of nothingness whimpering on the floor
Like a child that’s wet itself
And is acutely aware of the embarrassment.

I am alive when they start eating my intestines.
I HAVE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER.