On my way home I stop by the train tracks and piss on a fence. A man with a longboard under his arm walks by, takes a peek, I wink and he hurries off faster than he came. I zip up my fly. I follow along. He moves a little faster. I ride high on his fear. I’m a monster and so are you.
And I need all the reasons I can find not to hate myself. But it’s hard. Even the idea makes me shiver. Because I see loving myself like looking down on others. Riding around on a high horse. And I never want to think I’m better then the people I see on the street. The ones who have it rough. The ones who don’t fit in. The ones I see my own face in.
Comments
Post a Comment