Keeping Fish From Drowning

I think that this story requires parental supervision
Can you give an autobiography a rating like a movie?
Why is it that we all seem so much more scandalous on screen?
When imagination is superfluous, do reservations prevail?

Here’s the thing, Love
You and I, we won’t make it
I can see you shaking that pretty head of yours
But I promised you from the beginning that I wasn’t going to lie

Our eyes are going to meet from across the room
We’ll look past the mutilated bodies and the mountains of cocaine
You’ll glance up and smile at me just after taking a particularly potent hit
I’ll wink at you just as your pulling the syringe out of your arm
No, no, not the arm
Tonight, it is the back of your knee
There are a lot of tracks that I’ll run in life
But some of them you were never meant to see

You are never going to tell me the truth
Not completely
You’re going to fill our bed with half truths and insecure doubts
Or maybe that was me
I’m going to tell you how beautiful you really are and
Dear God
You’re going to hate me for it
We all need something to hate

Pause

Do you need an intermission, Love?
Take a break, get some water to replace the tears that you’re sure to shed
Then again, maybe that was me, too

Rewind <<

Play >

We all need something to hate

Sometimes after we’re done fucking, I’m going to despise you
I’m going to hate the way you taste
No
I’m not
I am only going to hate how your words feel while nibbling on my earlobe
Their favorite meal is my ego, which they devour with infantile eagerness and desperate need
I won’t stop it, though
I’ll only glare at you, the taste of you still fresh on my tongue
When you say nothing, I’ll turn my back
Secretly hoping that you will place your calloused hand on my shoulder and say something
Anything
To combat the silence

But you won’t
Ever
And I will wallow in my own self-induced misery while maintaining the stubborn silence

Every night you’ll tell me that you love me
And I’ll believe you
I don’t know why

You’re like a god, high on your throne among mere mortals
I’ll turn my head toward you one day and I’ll swear for a second that your throne is made from the anxieties and fear that you elicit from me
But only for a second
When I come back to my senses, I’ll realise that your throne is made of nothing so abstract
(How could you sit on that, anyway?)
But rather something concrete like the ladies you got bored with before me

One more hit, one more bump
One more round of sex because, fuck, we’re such fantastic lovers
You'll enter me slowly and then tear me apart
You'll do to my cunt what you did to my heart
So ironic, ‘cause I’ll like it

You’ll run right, I’ll crawl left
You north, I south
I’ll lick my lips as I dream about you
But you’ll only see me when your vision is filled with a cloud of white

Are you still listening, Love?
Are you still lucid?
This story hasn’t ended yet
Grimm hasn’t collected the conclusion to this tale
You know what really happened to the Little Mermaid?
She drowned

Baby, I love to swim

For a while, I will hold the belief that I will save you
But by the end of our story I’ll realise that I was only saving fish from drowning.