i let the mechanical whir of the electric fan wash over me,
the midnight breeze of the half-opened window,
the warm, bashful glow of the himalayan salt lamp at the edge of my table,
i can't sleep.
it's 1am and I can hear the titters of bats and distant howls of a stray dog
the soft growl of an airborne plane, gliding along the spheres finding home
and the inebriated voice of my father telling me,
why did you turn out that way?
i am awake like the noisy bats and the stray dog
dead as the metal alulas of a bygone plane up above,
touch-starved and so fucking starving for some release
fuck. I really can't sleep.
i was reading my slash fanfiction on my Ipad
when I felt the dazed, intoxicated eyes of my father on me
his gait wobbly, his mouth tugging upwards
i sat there stiff, frozen, steeling myself; waiting for guillotine
his hands laid heavy on my left shoulder
"You should go meet your cousins" he said.
i sheepishly scanned the men on the splintered wooden table
their messy hair, sticky skin, their red horse bottles, and pulutan
and I thought offhandedly, these aren't my fucking cousins.
they were horsemen; their bravado, all practiced machismo
bodies smelling of regret and poor life choices
pretty sure they'd call me a fag if they knew what it was
i greeted the horsemen and left just as quick
i did not turn to my father, already feeling the disappointed gaze
he's boring at the back of my skull
and cursing his luck.
i wish I was a bat or a fucking stray dog
it honestly sounds fun
man, I really wish I could shapeshift
then I could turn to a fucking horseman
it's 1am and the mechanical whir of the electric fan
is fucking annoying at this point
tonight I'll dream of metal wings and guillotines
of love's austere and lonely offices
just kidding. I can't fucking sleep.