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deviation in storage by regularjane


I should have given myself to anyone
who's ever wanted to fuck me.
The sex you have isn't yours.
Heat isn't the hand it comes from,
and an orgasm isn't the muscle convulsing,
nor the neck saying, "Cum for me."
It isn't even the experience.
It isn't even the memory of the experience.
You are more than you, whether
you intend or intend not to.
You leave a trace wherever you go.
A slit sugar packet with blood and arms.
The sex you have isn't yours.
So I should have had sex with anyone
who's ever wanted to fuck me,
so that I can belong to someone other than myself
for a little while.
My mother has become a black cloud, collecting in her room.
I shut her door when I read.
When I play music.
When I'm on the phone.
When she talks too much.
When I'm changing.
I shut her door without knowing why sometimes.
Since I moved in with my father, I've made it a habit to forget where I came from.
Who I came from.
Since I moved out on my own, I've taken up forgetting what I look like.
Who I look like.
Since my mother's news, and her surgery three months overdue, I try to remember everything.
How many steps lead up to her apartment.
The average number of gummis that come in the fruit snacks.
How low I can twist the light's dial before I see my demons peeking from corners.
The difference between choking on blood in your  sleep and it's-only-a-loud-snore.
When my mom's work alarm will blast on different weekdays so I can migrate from the couch to her bed.
When she limps out of the front door, I'm curled in the crease where her frame has sagged on the mattress, and I can fit my face where the place for her neck has dipped.
I wonder if she's cried here without my knowing.
I check the material for wet spots: yellow-vanilla.
I press my ear on the bed to listen for a recent history of sadness.
I fall asleep imagining a conversation with my mom, and her mom, who I never met.
My mother says, "Mom, this is my son."
My grandmother looks at me and says, "He is beautiful."
I say, "Grandma, this is my mother, your daughter."
And I look at her and say, "She is beautiful."
And these women smile.
So hard their faces fold into the wings of an Acrea Moth,
kicking up gusts with infinite laughter.


GetYourGrip's Profile Picture
United States
my name is Vincenzo.

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MauLeonS Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Hug  HBD :D 
IrrevocableFate Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2014   Writer
Happy birthday. :heart:
formaniac Featured By Owner Aug 17, 2014  Student Writer
Happy Birthday~
HappyHungrySleepy Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2014  Student General Artist
GetYourGrip Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2014
hello :}
HappyHungrySleepy Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2014  Student General Artist
Helllo. ;]
GetYourGrip Featured By Owner Jul 3, 2014
what brought you to my little this here page?
(1 Reply)
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2014   Writer
Thanks for the :+fav: on apoc in prog,  V in Cenzo
oaklungs Featured By Owner Dec 12, 2013
thank you for watching me too :rose:
GetYourGrip Featured By Owner Dec 19, 2013
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