by Jennifer E. Hudgens
I listen to Jack Kerouac, I
masturbate to the sound of
his voice, to lovers who
don’t know I love them.
My two tom cats asleep on my
feet, god stopped watching
out for my family months ago.
He told me yesterday that I
needed a distraction, he meant I
needed his body on mine- marijuana
latent and pierced cock, it might feel
good enough to make me forget life
for a moment. Forget that my father
can barely breathe-barely speak-
cannot swallow-cannot chew-
My father listens to Cat Stevens and
pretends that this is all a strange
dream. We all want to wake up.
Jack keeps me busy, life keeps
the pain slow, the pleasure fleeting.