Tuesday, 18 May 2010
The hungry boys do not understand that no matter how hard they kiss or fuck or punch, I will always be more hungry. Their hands shape into fists which are sometimes friendly and sometimes dangerous; but I am far more dangerous. The boys do not understand that if I invite them in and lay down beneath them, I am always somewhat bored, regardless of how vehemently I feign a gasp or a groan. They do not understand this because they have been brought up to seek blind, aggressive ownership of everything. The secret is that I was raised that way too. This town and these hands are as much mine as they are theirs.