you hung out with me at a time when my chest was boundless, dead
the same sentiment you get when you pass roadkill on the motorway
the curious sad “oh” you make as you drive by the carcass.
you thought half an ecstasy pill was enough to keep me high
you thought one-sixteenth of an acid tab was enough to thrill me
my eyes weren’t doing anything.
and you weren’t changing colour.
we have the same dealer.
you think it’s cool that you sometimes run errands for him.
i think it’s boring to pass over a gram every few seconds.
the door never stops being knocked.
and you don’t stop trying to knock my legs apart.
i keep em closed.
and my mouth wide.
i am a fan of old school garage and walking past houses on the councillor’s estate playing T2 from an lg cookie.
my primary school crush wore adidas trackies.
i am a fan of dad pulling over on the a6 and jumping out of the car and dancing to scooter’s rework of logical song.
as a family we’ve always enjoyed chasing sunsets in a blue Peugeot 206 and
i’ve always enjoyed the thrill of leaving class at the same time as another boy just to kiss them in school toilets.
not much has changed.
not much at all.
except I’ve done my fair bit of racking up now
and there’s so many mistakes wriggling around underneath my nail beds.
i need a manicure.
god love me. wherever he is.
i suppose we have many dealers, you and i
you have your favourites
and i date them.
and then when it becomes clear my body’s just another reefer to them
i get a chill and go on home.
fix myself a peanut butter and jam potato cake,
y’all should try it. it’s good.
anyway like i said,
my heart is roadkill.
when you get to my age, you’re having societally expected fun.
and doing things you do in the prime of your millennial life.
but i honestly don’t think i was born in the right year.
i feel about a million years old.
it’s kinda sad that I’m dating boys your age
it’s kinda sad i’m here at all.