Artificial. Looking for god in artificial. They call me at five o’clock in the morning. They don’t think. They just want. Maybe I just needed to be wanted. They wait for me to log on the sex sites. They just wait and want. Maybe I like the attention. Maybe I just want the money. Maybe I’m hooked on the drug. Maybe I’m just surviving like them. I’m still human. I’m searching. I’m still trying to reduce the noise. But the drug, it’s what they’ve been told they can’t have. It’s like love they’ve been told they can’t have. Maybe that’s why I sell my soul. It’s love they can’t have. So they call me on Monday mornings. They think I don’t sleep like the love they couldn’t have.
I still want love.
That morning, I thought it would be different. I thought it would be different. I created a new identification on the men sex site. I put my face picture up. I was smiling. I put myself out there. I hoped for truth. And he hit me up. He wasn’t some young kid. And I’m forty years old. I was getting tired of kids who want a good time, who just in it for the adventure. I was tired of kids who didn’t know where the train ended, kids who had run away from home. I had gotten tired. So when he hit me up, he was thirty three years old, a man. He didn’t ask for nothing, he didn’t want anything. He didn’t know about me. That I am a drug dealer. And I thought to myself because I put my picture up with my face instead of just showing my dick, he saw me. Because I showed my smile, that maybe it could be different. I was new. And I hadn’t been new for so long.
I fell in love with a drug addict once. I was young. She was a woman. I’m gay. I fell in love with Jackie when I was fifteen years old. I was staying with my Lesbian aunt. I had runaway from Grandma that summer. Mama was on crack. She was somewhere, nobody knew, maybe in jail, maybe in some alley; mama had already abandoned her kids. Jackie was this pretty girl, dark skin, baby eyes and smooth curves like a coca cola bottle. She was also a broken soul like sharp glass that everybody who touched her got wounded. Jackie was this girl that every kid in the ghetto wanted until she got pregnant by Rice the biggest drug dealer in my ghetto. Rice didn’t take care of his kids. I guess it was me trying to understand Jackie. I guess it was me trying to understand my mama who was also on drugs. That it could be more. That it wasn’t just some pill she took, or something she shot up her veins, or something she free based. Funny how those two words come together, free and based when really it isn’t nothing about it that’s free or based on anything.
With Jackie, I guess it was me trying to understand the drug. They said crack made them zombies. They said once they smoked crack their souls were lost to hell. I guess me loving Jackie was about trying find the humanity in her. It’s because I knew she was a child once, and I knew she used to have hopes and dreams. Maybe I thought the drug was just some assistance to her hurt and if I loved her enough, she wouldn’t need. She could still use it but she wouldn’t need that high. She would need me. I needed her to need me like the drug. I needed her to see I could save her like the drug. Maybe I was still begging my mother. Maybe I was still begging my mother to come home and not suck those strangers’ dicks off in the alley for her high. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t that high. I couldn’t understand why she was running because she had me. She had me. She went through nine months for me to get here. She pushed me. She pushed me out. She pushed me out. She pushed me. That took energy. That took a life.
So he got to my apartment. I snorted a little cocaine. I can be insecure sometimes. I can hate myself sometimes. I just wanted touch. I just wanted somebody to see my smile.
I opened the door. And he was beautiful. Such a man. I knew he had a job that he probably didn’t like but he knew responsiblity. A man that realized he was only making his way through the world. A man that didn’t want anything from me. And I didn’t feel my age. I didn’t feel my age with him. I had no kids. I hate kids. Kids make adults become kids. They make them become petty and silly and looking for Santa Claus. I knew there was no Santa Claus. Maybe there was no god. He was a man. He was a man
So I invited him in. I offered water. I offered him wine. I offered him. He seemed a little shy, so nervous. It made me nervous. And gay life sometimes can be so mechanical. It was new. I was new. He was new
We talked. I made jokes. I rubbed my head liked I used to do when I was a kid. Maybe it was his smile. Maybe it was his childish eyes. I kept excusing myself to go to the bathroom and to look at my eyes. I had those wild eyes like my mama. I had those wild eyes like my mama when she disappeared into the bathroom to smoke her drugs. I’m a drug dealer I told myself in the mirror. I’m a drug dealer. I’m what took my mother away from me.
When I came out the bathroom he was laying in my bed naked. His dick rock hard. And he was such a man. I could smell his musk at the door. I could feel the pulsating of his cum in his balls. He needed release. I needed release. And it wasn’t some porno. Gay men it sometimes can be a porno. It’s so mechanical the sound gay men make. It’s like they are looking for attention. It’s like it so rehearsed. It’s liked they are afraid to really feel. To be weak. Maybe it’s like war. Maybe they think once their dick gets hard they die.
But his dick was hard and I knew he wouldn’t die. I knew he wouldn’t die if I put my warm mouth on it. And I didn’t care about my eyes anymore. I didn’t care about my soul hurting anymore. I was going to be touched. I took off my clothes. I was just in gym shorts and no underwear so it was a simple shedding of skin. I was naked. I loved being naked with him. He was such a man. And talking to him, I knew it wasn’t some fantasy. He worked at the local grocery store. He wasn’t some fantasy. He lived paycheck to paycheck and somehow found a way to accept himself. He had accepted himself. Me, making love to him wasn’t about him needing to prove something, I could tell it in his hard dick. I could feel that pressure pulsating in his groins. I could feel he wouldn’t lie to me. He was a man. He had purpose. And in that moment, I was his purpose. I could be his purpose.
And while I was sucking his dick. While I was letting my white spit drip down on his dark shaft he never took his eyes off of me. And then he grabbed my neck. And then he pulled me towards him. And then he kissed me. His tongue slipping in my mouth like a lover getting under warm covers in winter. Like a lover searching for warmth. And I thought this was new. We are new. Maybe. Maybe.
Mama never gave up drugs. She also didn’t die. She spent her entire life looking for it. She called the drug dealers at five o’clock in the morning. She acted like there were no Mondays. She never needed anything but the white powder, the crystals, the needles, the crack pipe, she never needed to be love. I needed to be loved. I was a drug dealer and I needed to be love. She spent her life drifting. Maybe she needed that. And Jackie, the girl I feel in love with left me her child. She disappeared one day and never came back. The kid was only a year old. I took care of it. I don’t know why that day when I became a drug dealer that she left me her child. She said I wasn’t a drug dealer. She said I was just a human being trying to just survive. She said I hadn’t given up on love.
After he left. I went to the grocery store for more water. I was so thirsty. I hoped he call. I hoped he call.
I still want love.
That morning, I thought it would be different. I thought it would be different. I created a new identification on the men sex site. I put my face picture up. I was smiling. I put myself out there. I hoped for truth. And he hit me up. He wasn’t some young kid. And I’m forty years old. I was getting tired of kids who want a good time, who just in it for the adventure. I was tired of kids who didn’t know where the train ended, kids who had run away from home. I had gotten tired. So when he hit me up, he was thirty three years old, a man. He didn’t ask for nothing, he didn’t want anything. He didn’t know about me. That I am a drug dealer. And I thought to myself because I put my picture up with my face instead of just showing my dick, he saw me. Because I showed my smile, that maybe it could be different. I was new. And I hadn’t been new for so long.
I fell in love with a drug addict once. I was young. She was a woman. I’m gay. I fell in love with Jackie when I was fifteen years old. I was staying with my Lesbian aunt. I had runaway from Grandma that summer. Mama was on crack. She was somewhere, nobody knew, maybe in jail, maybe in some alley; mama had already abandoned her kids. Jackie was this pretty girl, dark skin, baby eyes and smooth curves like a coca cola bottle. She was also a broken soul like sharp glass that everybody who touched her got wounded. Jackie was this girl that every kid in the ghetto wanted until she got pregnant by Rice the biggest drug dealer in my ghetto. Rice didn’t take care of his kids. I guess it was me trying to understand Jackie. I guess it was me trying to understand my mama who was also on drugs. That it could be more. That it wasn’t just some pill she took, or something she shot up her veins, or something she free based. Funny how those two words come together, free and based when really it isn’t nothing about it that’s free or based on anything.
With Jackie, I guess it was me trying to understand the drug. They said crack made them zombies. They said once they smoked crack their souls were lost to hell. I guess me loving Jackie was about trying find the humanity in her. It’s because I knew she was a child once, and I knew she used to have hopes and dreams. Maybe I thought the drug was just some assistance to her hurt and if I loved her enough, she wouldn’t need. She could still use it but she wouldn’t need that high. She would need me. I needed her to need me like the drug. I needed her to see I could save her like the drug. Maybe I was still begging my mother. Maybe I was still begging my mother to come home and not suck those strangers’ dicks off in the alley for her high. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t that high. I couldn’t understand why she was running because she had me. She had me. She went through nine months for me to get here. She pushed me. She pushed me out. She pushed me out. She pushed me. That took energy. That took a life.
So he got to my apartment. I snorted a little cocaine. I can be insecure sometimes. I can hate myself sometimes. I just wanted touch. I just wanted somebody to see my smile.
I opened the door. And he was beautiful. Such a man. I knew he had a job that he probably didn’t like but he knew responsiblity. A man that realized he was only making his way through the world. A man that didn’t want anything from me. And I didn’t feel my age. I didn’t feel my age with him. I had no kids. I hate kids. Kids make adults become kids. They make them become petty and silly and looking for Santa Claus. I knew there was no Santa Claus. Maybe there was no god. He was a man. He was a man
So I invited him in. I offered water. I offered him wine. I offered him. He seemed a little shy, so nervous. It made me nervous. And gay life sometimes can be so mechanical. It was new. I was new. He was new
We talked. I made jokes. I rubbed my head liked I used to do when I was a kid. Maybe it was his smile. Maybe it was his childish eyes. I kept excusing myself to go to the bathroom and to look at my eyes. I had those wild eyes like my mama. I had those wild eyes like my mama when she disappeared into the bathroom to smoke her drugs. I’m a drug dealer I told myself in the mirror. I’m a drug dealer. I’m what took my mother away from me.
When I came out the bathroom he was laying in my bed naked. His dick rock hard. And he was such a man. I could smell his musk at the door. I could feel the pulsating of his cum in his balls. He needed release. I needed release. And it wasn’t some porno. Gay men it sometimes can be a porno. It’s so mechanical the sound gay men make. It’s like they are looking for attention. It’s like it so rehearsed. It’s liked they are afraid to really feel. To be weak. Maybe it’s like war. Maybe they think once their dick gets hard they die.
But his dick was hard and I knew he wouldn’t die. I knew he wouldn’t die if I put my warm mouth on it. And I didn’t care about my eyes anymore. I didn’t care about my soul hurting anymore. I was going to be touched. I took off my clothes. I was just in gym shorts and no underwear so it was a simple shedding of skin. I was naked. I loved being naked with him. He was such a man. And talking to him, I knew it wasn’t some fantasy. He worked at the local grocery store. He wasn’t some fantasy. He lived paycheck to paycheck and somehow found a way to accept himself. He had accepted himself. Me, making love to him wasn’t about him needing to prove something, I could tell it in his hard dick. I could feel that pressure pulsating in his groins. I could feel he wouldn’t lie to me. He was a man. He had purpose. And in that moment, I was his purpose. I could be his purpose.
And while I was sucking his dick. While I was letting my white spit drip down on his dark shaft he never took his eyes off of me. And then he grabbed my neck. And then he pulled me towards him. And then he kissed me. His tongue slipping in my mouth like a lover getting under warm covers in winter. Like a lover searching for warmth. And I thought this was new. We are new. Maybe. Maybe.
Mama never gave up drugs. She also didn’t die. She spent her entire life looking for it. She called the drug dealers at five o’clock in the morning. She acted like there were no Mondays. She never needed anything but the white powder, the crystals, the needles, the crack pipe, she never needed to be love. I needed to be loved. I was a drug dealer and I needed to be love. She spent her life drifting. Maybe she needed that. And Jackie, the girl I feel in love with left me her child. She disappeared one day and never came back. The kid was only a year old. I took care of it. I don’t know why that day when I became a drug dealer that she left me her child. She said I wasn’t a drug dealer. She said I was just a human being trying to just survive. She said I hadn’t given up on love.
After he left. I went to the grocery store for more water. I was so thirsty. I hoped he call. I hoped he call.
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