A Storm Where there is Silence
The body is meant to be seen. Not worshipped. Just seen. Your face, your shape, the way people notice you before you even say anything. I used to look in the mirror and see things that probably weren’t even there. The stomach stuff still gets to me sometimes. But that’s not really the point anymore. The point is that the look stays.
Sex isn’t really one specific thing either. It can be my wife. It can be a girl who already saw the other accounts and still decided to stay. It can be a woman at work who knows I’m wearing a ring and still looks at me anyway. It could even be a man, if he genuinely wanted me. I don’t think gender is the part that matters. What matters is being wanted while all the ugly, complicated parts are still right there in the open.
And softness doesn’t mean something isn’t real. Sometimes it’s just a late text, a quiet voice, someone taking their time instead of trying to force anything. That can hit harder than all the obvious stuff.
But there’s another part of it that stays with me. The night itself can end and be completely fine, but that’s not necessarily what matters most. What gets under my skin is knowing that someone can’t completely go back to who they were before. Not because they were hurt or anything like that. Just because something changed. Their story changed. Maybe the way they see themselves changed. Maybe even the way they carry themselves afterward.
The moment itself is short. The aftermath is what sticks with me.
They had the chance to leave, and they stayed. That’s the yes. I don’t need to turn that into some philosophy or pretend it’s deeper than it is. They stayed. That’s enough.
What’s a better taste,
Is it Fent or is it lead?
Unavailable disgrace,
Yet the silence is what eats me instead.
Fuck boy belated,
Is this why I’m so hated?
Nobody wants to be by me,
Maybe it’s because I’m always faded.
Or jaded.
After all, it came to you free—
No graded proof to show I’m not isolated.
Not a soul can see
That I’m only here to prevent
The very event I wanna commit.
Climb to the top of the summit,
Tie the rope, it’s swaying, I won’t stop it.
They never really loved me,
They only wanna fuck me,
Never effort to be around me—
Just a face they can use: social assassination.
Access is a joke when all you wanna do is snort coke
And find dope, maybe disappear while I mope.
Everyone has always hoped
I would never make it here,
Looking for some pure dope
As the lights go out and the mind permanently clears.
