He shows up at my house, unexpectedly. I haven't seen him in months and he kisses my neck. You, he says. He closes his hand around my neck and we're lifted off the ground, moving backwards through this dungeon of a house in red and black, I'm moving backwards and him forward, at high speed, there is a rush, a killer kilter break-neck. The speed kicks up a strong wind and my hair flies wicked and his hand is still on my neck, though there's no pressure, he's only holding me there and we're flying backward and he kisses the base of my neck and says: "You know this will never stop. Ever. We're stuck like this."
The red and black house blurring faster faster faster my heart uneven but strangely happy, desperate horrible lurching happiness and want but when we come to rest against a red wall and everything is gentle and quiet, I'm afraid. A blur of headlights pour into the house and an entire contigent of People We Don't Want To See are outside and I won't let them in, I refuse to let them into my house to see the red and black that's everywhere, the disconcerting angles of all the walls, the things that no one should see, I protect myself and him and the house, only I'm not sure why. I feel a sense of horror and shame. I've been caught and it's been a long time coming.
I fight tooth and nail to keep the door closed. I threaten to set the house on fire. I wake relieved when I realize thatI'm in a bed, one that's not even my own and that no one is trying to see inside my house.
Reflections on publicity
1 week ago