macy loukas
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young and scared and writing to try and heal
Stories (2)
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Accidental Indoctrination
I have been listening to a song called “Talking to Jesus” and it has practically indoctrinated me. The sound of the chorus with audience shouting along while I pass by a street called Cross Rd. was enough to make me believe for a moment that perhaps I am smaller than I thought. My god does not believe in capital letters. He is lying just beside his bed, pill bottle overflowing while he puffs smoke from his gin-dripping mouth. He is likely wearing dirty boots and hangs a sign from his door that says, “homeless: no room left on Earth”. I believe that he is drunk more often than he is not drunk, and has been watching me, laughing, twisting his fingers to unravel the very little thread of wellbeing that I have left. He once traveled down to push me to the edge of death, just to show me what it smelled like. “see? citrus with a hint of vodka. didn’t i tell you? smells like citrus with a splash of booze.” It smelled like citrus with a splash of booze. It was blue and black and high up in the air, where I could not see my mother waiting for me. I no longer care for my orange-scented candles. I have thrown away all of the cleaning supplies that smells of lemon and battery acid. I scrub down my sink with lavender now. The jackass in cargo shorts has a sister, a twin, a beautiful woman who eats pussy without her hair in a bun, letting it flow and soak and tangle. She is running, constantly running, unshaven and laughing too loud and pranking Wall Street for fun. She throws back her head and screams for me to follow her, and I am running, constantly running, trying to find where she hides when she goes, leaving me with only a drunken man in cargo shorts. She is replanting forests that are torn down, she is sipping red wine and eating cherries, tying stems into bows with her tongue, showing she does not need to tie her hair up. She is running. I am running. He is drunk, and I am accidentally indoctrinated by a song about talking to jesus and a road named Cross. I am the product of twins, two halves, two untamed unloved unfuckingimaginable assholes with wild hair and vodka breath. I am avoiding the scent of citrus at all costs. It will find me one day, but it cannot find me yet. I am running.
By macy loukas5 years ago in Poets
