Sunday, 7 April 2013


Sexuality came to me in a dream.

Men came to me in a dream.

You remember what you want to remember from dreams and I remembered how I had flings from men I’ve seen on television holding cigarettes and inhaling in suits, black and white and in colour as they would laugh and they would lure me in.

I wouldn’t imagine sex until I’ve heard of it.

I was shy at first as the dreams had aroused me and came with my puberty and my wet bed as I had shivered and just ran out on the front porch, my pajamas wet and I’d go in the bushes looking for a spare pack of cigarettes from my sibling and I’d sit on the wet grass, rocking the smoke back and forth as it would remind me of sperm flowing from my mouth,

yep, I knew I was gay.

And then you start realizing along with the rest of the class like a fire bell, that being gay is not only illegal but gross and everyone starts getting called gay and a faggot and I close my ears on the talk, even when I’m in a vinyl store and in labs where I keep mixing chemicals and boys discuss what presumably gay men do and I wish they would talk as if we also drain blood.

Cigarettes and the morning become too luring as everyone sleeps and I can see who sleeps and who has sex at this time of the day.

I started seeing the postman wake up with me and he’d hurl the newspaper at me.

Presumably you know who is gay and who is not.

I know now, draining some whiskey from my flask and when I am in a bar, laughing and I just walk around with the lights and everything is so illegal that you for a brief second with kisses think that maybe all this drunken talk might be true and once we weren’t illegal makes me ponder.

A heartbreak is in the mind, surely, it is the mind that cries, the heart just keeps beating as you fall further in the bed, the brain slowly becoming paralyzed with the thoughts.

My sexuality makes me wonder, what would be wrong with homosexuality if priests do not have wives, why not have husbands? Why not have sex when God had created it, make God see? I wrap myself harder in the bed covers seeing all the torn posters from my early teens lasting until life spits me out, just like it had now. I have a girlfriend, sorta, we don’t have sex, usually I watch her blonde hair glitter as she smokes a joint.

I stand up, knowing that both parents are outside, lost and I head downstairs in the lab. I grab the first red pen, doing some additional things, just like Kate had told me, she was bad in chemistry but she noticed what was wrong.

I raid the cupboards and find the stashed fungus.

I walk out of the garage, lighting a cigarette, pleased with my self as my jeans seem too torn, but I wave to the postman anyway, laughing, knowing, that I had managed to even start a second batch.


I actually wrote a bit of this back in October, but kept it for the Jamie Hince request:) I wrote a bit more and here it is:D I hope you enjoyed it and there's a lot coming more, so feel free to request:3


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