Flash Review: Boyhood



No words.


kickstarter to save me from myself

i want to not have feelings for this person anymore. this person wasn’t good to me and isn’t good for me.

canadian dream: sex with xavier dolan with arcade fire playing and justin bieber sobbing in the background

i’m waiting to wake up next to you, but i find myself on a freighter

it takes three full revolutions to realize that
the person you fell in love with genuinely 
likes zac brown band and taking you back 
to a place, from years ago, where some
infant put a pillow over your face and sat. 

i’ve already gone through the bargaining,
sold my soul on etsy for 30 swiss francs,
bought a one way ticket to your insides
and later regretted my transactions, the
first time i gave myself completely to you. 

i possess a small amount of self-respect,
but i often pretend that the little i have left
is stored away on some overheated planet,
a sauna world where unicellular creatures
guard the memories we aren’t able to keep.

it’s a comforting thought, the distance i’ve
established between your persistence and
my weakness—it’s become hard to move on
when all i ever do is masturbate to your clothes,
your collared shirts and worn out running shoes. 

i would really like to taste your tongue

I would really like to taste your tongue, but I’m scared that you’ll run away. I don’t want you to run away. I know you’ll send me a text message that says, “I’m sorry, but I had to.” I’ll ask why and you won’t respond for two weeks. I don’t know where I will be when you respond. I would really like to taste your tongue and it becomes so easy to forget that you never wanted to taste mine. I brush my teeth morning and night, sometimes after lunch too. I brush my teeth, floss and pick at my gums. I don’t do this because I care about my teeth or gums, but because hygiene is just an excuse to bring people close. I think that’s the only reason anyone really cares. It’s not the reason you find me repulsive, though. I wish I knew the reason. I would really like to taste your tongue, but you’ve been away for a couple of weeks now and I’m certain you’ve found somebody with a longer, more put together tongue. Someone always has something more adept than someone else’s something. The world works in very interesting ways. Once, way before you even know I existed (but I knew about you), I saw you at some poetry reading. I thought there was something wrong with the shape of your head and I didn’t really understand the way your teeth fit the way they did. I liked the shirt you were wearing. The way you were wearing your shirt made me think that you were capable of being both the best and the worst human being. It’s both nice and unpleasant to know that I was was right on some level. I would really like to taste your tongue, but I don’t know if there’s much left I can do to make it happen.