a beautiful place in the country

(a Broken Arms foundry. iNCoMPLeTe. early '07)

the other day I accidentally bent my cock to the left while masturbating and it still hurts.
I haven't showered since and I hope the next time we pass you catch the faint scent of boys in the air (a teeming sensuality across your shoulders) the first girl I fell in love with did. She showed me jazz and that fingers curve the way they do because pianos are meant to be played with emotion that is interpretable because hips are made to be held. She showed me the blues and a glimpse of what that really meant. What memory means when personified.
The only memories I have of my parents together are of fake plastic trees cheap tinsel the one Christmas ornament that was left for only me to place.
That time hiding under my sesame street blanket on the couch on edge while they took turns throwing the corded telephone at each other wishing that I knew how to melt beneath the floral patterns and staples under a certain part of me.
At my great grandfathers farm when I was a child I slinked between forests of grass my body striped with rainbow resonance of smelly water soluble markers a foot soldiers determination on my palms placed tightly around stones I sprung from the earth clutching those that could not be stuffed into small pant pockets bare feet heel deep in the hills of hay I crested to find my mark my charlie beneath a bending aspen tree unaware and peacefully dreaming pieces of dreams that fell as I rose a menacing miniature scream shook its way from my bony chest through my thin arms to propel stone sent ammunition too weighty for me to any longer contain same as the tears that streamed down my pink face as I bludgeoned that poor animal stone after sinking stone until it's elder yelps grew distant and my great grandfathers dog was out of sight until I found myself alone the rising dust caking tear drops browning sun drying eyes the lack of and sudden realization of despised surprise
how at such an age of supposed innocence could I have such a thirst to test the limits of the boundaries that gave and took away the minutes
I remember doing it because I just wanted to know what it was like to brandish my tiny teeth and destroy something beautiful I did it because I could that was my first time thinking that I may have a friend in god but I have the devil inside of me
that dog died less than 6 months later and although I was only 7 years old then maybe I was 5 I felt at the farm that there was more ground to be walked on than before fewer limbs raising the dust on that day a single heart palpitation caused my immediate earth to grow four paws fold and on that note all I could have told you then was that a chip of the paint that protected me was gone that an ambient vulner had been pasted to my ability...