“my ex boyfriend is trying to kill me,” a drama.

November 21, 2010

i wonder what my problem is today.

there are dogs on my mind. care to give and take. and all i can do to stay afloat is beg. beg for a dream raft to rise out of the water. gushing glory. it will be all slimy drift wood. some crust tooth hero right on top. with a huge cock. and a quiet way. i’ll be on it all morning. makeshift sailing. and no one trying to kill me.

the dream i had. he rode in. teeth like a picket fence. bike between his thighs. i rush to the front door. the house is all glass and hardwood and marble. i’m racing him to the threshold. him out on the street, closing in. me in the fancy house. long hair like a flash of deer startled by the sudden sprint. i don’t make it. he’s up the steps. bike still. still riding. it’s slow motion when i turn sharp. one eighty. my hair wraps around my face in some blonde dream. some cloud. some ocean wave. and he’s got something corrosive in a spray bottle. the plain, stylish kind. sprits your do at the salon. and he’s closing in. he’s cutting me off. he’s spraying me in the face. dream numbness where pain would strike the woken mouth. some makes it down my throat. is my lip swollen? has it been fried right off my face? i can’t tell. i’m running. for my fucking life. he is trying to kill me. daylight now. hillside. popular. when in this charming car, this charming man… he’s a doctor. takes a look at my face. “my ex boyfriend is trying to kill me.”

i wake up with a sore throat.

 

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