i had a dream
of a man from years ago
alone after jerking off. his head
is the head of a mantis chewing
through the head of a mate. his insectile teeth moving
back and forth like meticulous fingers,
like he is cleaning something
violently.
his head is a typewriter chewing
through journal pages, minutiae from
his days and days and days.
keys hammering in his jaw, he softens the
strokes, relaxes his throat, opens his
mouth to receive another page. he takes
the whole thing and
opens again and the pages keep rolling
around in his mouth.
is he spitting out or
      swallowing
   down?
i don't know.

but his eyes are afraid like
he's been holding his breath too
long underwater and his lungs are
starving. starving like it's midnight and he's just
jerked off and he's here in the kitchen now
with a dinner plate polished so bright he
can see his face in it. polished
like the silver dish in the refrigerator full of
his head.
he opens and finds it here plated
because he has not been telling
the truth. not to himself anyway
(or anyone else either)
and he's hungry because that's what he
gets when he jerks off.
he's hungry and he's looking for something
to replace what he’s empty of now or maybe
to absolve him
a little
for what's still left in him and the fridge is
full of one silver dish with his quiet lying
head full of teeth smiling down on him like
there’s something true it could say
right now to make everything
come together but (what was he jerking off to?
that has him so hungry? don't say it.
don’t say it. is there honey under that tongue or a mouth
full of locusts? don’t
say it) the lips are cold and his dinner plate is empty
and he is famished

thepword is a collection of 220 articles, blogs and podcasts in the voices of pedophiles who oppose adult child sexual contact and exploitation. Our content is frequently removed from mainstream social media or blog sites because of what we are and the fact we talk about it. Our side of the conversation continues here.

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