Since I published this post, I have been receiving many messages asking me to stop talking about friends’ personal lives. Just to clarify, this is a narrative based on memory. When I was young, I heard someone in the near family making a choice and that influenced me. What comes out now, is fictional.
Displayed at University of Michigan SAPAC ( Sexual Abuse and Prevention Centre, Ann Arbour, Michigan)’s art exhibit called Revolution, the pictures can be found here.
You were an object
A toy
An instrument
They said
He used you
They said
I have a girlfriend
He said
She loves me
He said
But doesn’t fuck me
Like you do
He said
I love her
He said
I love you
He said
He used you
They said
You fuck me too well
He said
To let go
He said
Would you love me too
I said
If she didn’t love you
I said
You think too much
He said
Won’t you hold me tonight
He said
I like your hat
She said
Walking in the snow
Hot ginger lemon in one hand
The other arm
Tightly tucked
In his
You have lovely eyes
I said
Heard so much about you
I said
Seen your picture
I said
He loves you
I said
The girl who fucked dishonesty
They said
The boy who loved
Two worlds
They said
And kept each a secret
They said
Because the girl was too nice
They said
She was scared
They said
To lose what she never had
They said
How did they know
I said
Can you keep a secret
I said
I’ve just met you
She said
Smiling, amused by this girl
But, sure
She said
Tell me
Don’t we need to go
He said
It is getting late
He said
It is getting late
I said
It is probably
Too late already
I said
Whatever do you mean
She said
I fucked him
I said
He fucked me
I said
He fucked you
I said
You are a whore
A bloody whore
She said
Bloody
She said
An honest one
She said
Coffee in our hands
What could I do
I said
What can I do
She said
You are a whore
They said
You shouldn’t have told her
They said
You won’t sleep with me, then?
He said
You are a fucker
She said
She was right
She said.
Yet another master work with words from U.
The darkest of the darkness under the glow of floodlit words
this reminds me so much of you, talking among us, I would sometimes get annoyed because I was in love, I miss you a lot and I feel so happy for you …
You never cease to amaze me with your genius, N!
It’s dark and lovely.
P.
Too little to understand these things. How would I know what it is like?
Pretty as things are, not very pretty are they? There is loathe every time I read. For the world.. for things distant, feeling so close.
Aren’t you always brilliant? I love what you write, each of them. And each is full of things you feel.
You are, no matter how many times how many people say it, a star! And I am so proud of you.