Oct 9, 2012

When I Wrote It Down, I Wrote It Down Dirty

Written by Jameson Fitzpatrick

Read by Alex Dimitrov

The season of married men. The fall
I couldn’t get enough of them. Their expensive watches
and long weekday lunches. The cold cliche
of a wedding band against my cock. I cried
all over town. Met a successful writer
and let him fuck me bareback in a stairwell
because he was a successful writer. Sorry Mom.
Once he ate me out in a famous lesbian poet’s apartment.
I thought: This is the best moment of my life.
Later I’d sleep with men more famous than him
and each time think: This is it. What I was born for.

Today I made another poet cry without meaning to,
with purpose. He’s famous. I’m Nobody, I thought,
why not? Every night I ask myself: How many more
people know your name than knew it yesterday?
Some months I spend so long looking in the mirror
I forget to leave the house. This is how long it takes to tell
how bad I am.

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