I fit you like a pair of concrete shoes; malis

[sleaze]

I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife He copes through isolation, does not look them in the eye, tries to block their passage out. When his mind howls too feral he tries to turn it to lesser things, to plants and lower animals. (He likes being an oak. There is a timeless piece inside the bark, leaves stretched to the sky, birds perched on him. There are no thoughts, only a warmth of sunlight, a sensation of a breeze.) (He does not like being a wolf, where the taste of blood is sweet as honey in his mouth and the horses he’s long ignored stop becoming beings and start becoming meat, a network of muscle and sinew, the weak and frail among them all but glowing like beacons, begging to be destroyed.) He copes because there is a girl who negates his restless mind, whose mind he cannot touch. He doesn’t know if he loves her or worships her, or if indeed there is any difference. He’s been a praying man before and he would be again, for her. He copes because he must, because even though sometimes a suicidal ideation sticks in his bones he shakes it off. He wants to live. (Just not like this.) There are still dreams. He thinks there will always be dreams. A clown with a Glasgow smile, a name carved upon his belly, a fire so hot he melts until he is nothing. There was a girl. (There were two girls.) The body is there before he knows it, her face near his, the scent of her overwhelming. He thinks of steel traps, of iron jaws, and shuts his mind from leaping out to take her. He does not want to know her mind. His own is wretched enough. Do you remember me? she asks and he wants to laugh, for how could he forget a girl who once sat with him on a precipice while they practically dared each other to jump. A girl who validated his madness, made it real because she knew things she could not possibly know. “There was a girl,” he says in way of response, and he isn’t sure if he wants to touch her or cringe away. sleaze cancer x garbage