And now you look upon my body and you search for a shink that may open me wide and let you in to what you know. You won’t find it though. Do you think this is the first time? But you’re a fool if you think you have a weapon sharp enough to saw down the truth as it stands. And you’re a fool if you think I am different to you. Should you try to pry open my bones and my buttons you would not hurt me anymore, not now. You will only reveal yourself to be what I already knew you were. Because if you’re gonna be a faggot at least follow through. I’ve danced this dance before, I know exactly why you don't look at me now. The flirtatious linger in your gaze, suddenly absent, your eyes are dead. Your stare is dead. Static, devoid of sensation now. You are afraid to look. Do not try to justify it to yourself either, as if you are no fool for not wanting me now. I have not gone anywhere, I have not suddenly changed. I am not your dog, I do not beg. I will not poke my nose out from under the table and look up at you with big, wet eyes as I stuff my snout into your crotch. I will however, tear what little you have into something bloody if you give me the chance, which you now have. I do not beg for the permission to reside someplace that’s mine, as it is yours. You think it is yours. Don’t turn your back to a dog like me. And all this performance of yours does not change one crucial fact: I know you thought about it. I know you wondered to yourself what it looks like when my clothes are all off. Would it even feel different? I cannot take that thought out from the minutes, nor can you. I suppose it’s hard to wonder those things if you’re looking into my eyes.
anonymous 5/30/25