True Life – Lily Bix Daw

Bite me 
        Oh I need some real love I need to curate that feeling so bad  that’s why I need you. I can’t spin straw into gold it turns into worms I don’t touch worms I have some real strong boundaries- boundaries I made because I had you in mind all along. We were fantasy bonding
        I smell grapes
        I hear him dictate- “in case you’re interested, I found the interest. Period. Ten years of progress.end quote” 

The man behind me the row over is bashing his head against the wide metal windowsill of the airport windows he does it twice, with extreme force. Sounds like metal on metal with a cloth buffer I turn around to look and have the distinct sensation that he will use my head as the neck surface to swing on and I can feel the blow on the back of my head, on the flat part of my skull that meets my neck probably because I was left in the cradle for too long. 
        There was this guy who always said he was burning the field for the new growth when he would pay me money to let him shave my pussy and he always spoke in a point of view I couldn’t understand -had put the chin in some pussy to get me closer to god, i thank you lord for the way I am. 
        I think about how I used to wash my hands til they were raw when I was a child – What was that feeling

We were lying in bed facing each other almost kissing and I started feeling sick 
        Like I was going to pass out or spew all over you. I didn’t tell you  because I am a Maybelline globetrotter in the ways I am unclean. Then the night I was the dirtiest, you were finally in my dream in a way that didn’t matter but still I love your indifference to the future. I heard they send working girls  to warzones to make them fight better. The nurses fuck the marines to help them get better, it’s mathematics.
        When a boy would leave my house in the morning or late at night I would stand there watching him go feeling like I was a part of the house in a biological way. flesh but more than that I was the house but the house was also my mother who had me in her womb and the boy was my father trying to kill me with a sharp stick.
        and if the day could go by staying up for me to cross the line then the baby would be fine. 
        before I knew that you knew what I knew, your neck was precious to me. when I saw that you could see I was so scared that it would be the end. I don’t feel that way anymore. I know I said I understood but not for you. 
        I’m four years old in the Google doc
        I’m six years old in the pain 
        This means when I turn seven and my neck breaks, a crystal forms in my nuclear center.
        Which evokes the intuitive feeling that even insocalled dead matter there is a spiritual ordering principal at work 
        It’s so beautiful to be a mind in the world when you know what your job is, mine  is to see how I live and live how I see
        I feel pleasantly serene when I don’t think of how unclean I am, on the bus. 
        I could see the crown I knew was a twisting paradisiacal hell.
        I want to give you your cake I’ll help you eat it too and in a different world I hope that comes true
        Are you thinking of me, now or ever, directed toward anyone. The correctness of my spine: it rotates and so it needs no hands or feet. My hand would move to my face and back to my life and up to some nowhere place erratically the way girls move when they are chain masturbating alone. 
        More than anything I want to be a personality
        And being the realest version of each other woman that the one has ever been, we all realized what doesn’t hurt you is outside getting stronger, pulling them out one at a time my body rejecting their state of being. They are still the same size, the ice cubes. 
        Only the feeling  of a fingernail scraping me from inside and the feeling is pleasurable and I cry a little bit like when you have to urinate and only a few drops come out. 

He was going to have sex for the first time and he giggled,  in a high pitched voice saying, I’m falling I’m spinning I’m moving downward at a  rapid speed I’m getting fucked in the ass  I’m not caring about something I should care about.
        Sometimes you have to let yourself have these thoughts and not worry too much about whether or not they’re fucked up- they might be but who cares you can’t police your own mind.  The shampoo bottle is true most of the time, and that’s really messed up to say but some of us aren’t really into being happy.  aren’t even built for that and we do much better just being in free fall. don’t take that away from me 
        I’ll kill you and smash your head across the pavement and look at the bone shards and brain. I was just having violent thoughts to see how it felt and it felt like something I don’t want to do but that I like to think about sometimes because it scares me and is so wrong I’m interested In many things I’ve never personally experienced 
        It’s ok to be curious about the world

I met mike when I was 22 in the alley behind the bowling alley he said not to be afraid of fear 
        Mike, I said, i keep hearing a cracklings of cellophane  wherever i go, Later he said, that’s a pic here of you on the tv
        That night was when I learned about the difference between depersonalizing to obscure and  depersonalizing  to distill perfection. at first i was into him and  he presented himself  as a very good boy. i also just  kind of tend to go along w things! 
        when i found out he lied he never even accepted  he had  lied and  did a lot to make it seem like i was overreacting about it 
        i tried to end it then but  he didn’t make it easy. 

When my cousin lost her virginity I noticed myself becoming more permeable at certain times than at others and  information being more kindly received as the Truth or Truth adjacent. I don’t know why it had to do with her deflowering .
        i will look at something and be convinced it is imbued with a mystic power 
        and  other  times nothing is meaningful or important  
        in love with me up until the oyster flesh spilled on your lap and we situated back into our own histories- it felt so incredibly boring to imagine a woman turning into a pillar of salt
        The haze is obscuring you, way down there somewhere.
        What are you doing? Lying on the bench and pulling the bag from the metal soap container on the wall. The plastic pouch is just like the IV fluids but swallowing the  baker miller pink soap is not the same. It tastes like almonds and you know what they say about almonds. 
        I want to kiss you on the part of you that still exists because people have sex and make nothing to show for it 
        How so? Because im suffering and it’s for a greater good. Im giving myself up to god. Im experiencing pain borne out of love
        There are blue stains on our blue couch and the room is lit by a flickering television and the man who made the stains is standing in the darkened corner by the off turned lamp, his stomach pulsing like a heartbeat in the electric sconces. We don’t have good chemistry with this child. We thought it was the one, maybe. That this Child would make this evil world a better place- but the chemistry isn’t there. When the man speaks the comprehension filters through like a poor translation of a foreign language text. 

The man is immobile but something is moving so resolutely inside him as he uses his mind to pull out a bed from the blue stain couch. Lays down on bed and the two women proceed to make the bed over him, fitted sheets and all, his legs hanging off the end of the bed and that was when I professed my love for him over email and began the long process. I am a pedophile with a parasocial fixation on my child self.

i professed my love for him over email and then sat quietly, amusedly contemplating suicidal ideation and the (possibly prophetic) predictive text offering of the word “emasculating” that had appeared when i typed the word “email” into a search bar 

i then tried many times to destroy my childbearing hips.
        in attempting to achieve the perfect waist to hip ratio it became vaguely evident that i was willing my womb out of corporeal existence. Wretchedly, in each lovely flattening of my abdomen into a waist clincher’s abject confines. 
        this perhaps was well reflected in my lack of desire for children, which i acknowledged was absolutely without positive net gain in terms of my future wellbeing and happiness. 
        but then again, they are called childbearing hips for a reason.
        this is more a matter of core strength and rib cage diameter and not unconscious defeminization, i decided, which was a comfort. I continue.  the general agreement was that there was something worth mining there, should we ever have the will to do more than answer one email. I fell so in love with myself when I peered down between my legs as a four years old child, watching the phallic shape of my own feces leave my body. It felt rapturous like a self-penetration and self-expulsion at the same instant- I became fixated on acts of expulsion, and a sense of deep personal uncleanliness took hold. I was transfixed and terrorized by the sensation of being my own decaying ecosystem in need of restoration- I did sense that there was a former glory that was attainable. I played with the snake and ached, and unfurled when it played with me until a sheer ringing sound accompanied me whenever I picked up something off the ground. It was a faintness of metal struck a very long time ago, and the same metal tasted in my mouth when I woke up with a seed under my pillow every morning.