Things
Things I keep to myself. Things others see and I don’t. I lick my own sweat, thinking of a tongue from a lover who isn’t here. Things. Beautiful ones and ugly ones, morbid and cheerful ones. Who would know me better than myself?
A storm is coming and I am ill-prepared to contain lust, fear, and anger. Savage feelings in either direction you’d see can easily glamour you into the comfortable feeling of knowing me. I offer my skin and my skill to those I adore, yet withhold certain things to discuss after some wine.
© Text: Orlando Barahona
© Image: Angel Breton/Flickr
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