Ass-fuckd as me – Poem

We could not
Have the luxury of paying $100
On the electric bill.

When it was cold we
Used to turn on all the burners
With pans filled with water on top
Of them
Boiling and warming us up
And the gas bill
Hardly cost more than
30 bucks

Hungry we were
The two of us
We’ve spent almost everything on
Bills. There was
I tiny budget for
food, which was basically
eggs and rice.
I also liked to buy
A large piece of ham
And sauté rice with it, in cubes. And we had
A candlelit dinner every
Night.
I always gave him the eggs
He liked it best.
A feast for
5 bucks, or less.

We had this dream
To live in Frei Caneca Street
Never by the beach.
On Frei, where we first met,
Also where we fucked for the
First time at
That Motel in front of
“Alôka” bar.

What a cliché
A gay couple living on the
gay street
But who could
Barely pay their own roof and food

Feasting ham, and rice and eggs every
Night. It seemed a straight
Path. It seemed right
We were happy despite
All this shit, ‘cause
It was so quiet inside
Our home.
The street was so calm
Even though when some-
Times a group of neo-Nazis passed by
Staring at us and taunting us
But nothing more.

Over time, we’ve learned to
deal with this crap.
We were full of life, ‘cause
On the rest of the day
Everything were OK.

After three years we
Balanced the bills, paid the loans, repaired
The pipes, eliminated
All debts, including on the Colombian
Restaurant
We used to go celebrate
Anything, at anytime.

The letters stopped coming
The electric and gas companies
Stopped calling
Every day to propose
Deals to settle our debts.

The life was starting to feel
Easy for the first time, but that was when things
Started to fall apart.

Gustavo was doing great at his
Job and so was I.

But at the end of the day we argued About
Dishes, house cleaning, division of
Bills, and the clothes I bought
Without telling him.

We started argue
At the dinner with friends, at home,
Even on the Colombian
Restaurant.
We let it become
part of our routine, like the 10pm
soap-opera, every day, after TV news.

He hinted I haven’t
Helped him with house duties
And that I haven’t maden
Anything good in
Life so far.

“You just want to spend
Money and swing this
dick.

You are too spoiled
For adult life”, he said

Slamming the door for
All the neighbors to
Hear.

When I confronted him ‘bout
not answering his phone
During his work shift he said
He could not use the mobile
In the surgery room.

He spent whole nights without
Coming home.
The nights he showed up
Smelling like shit-motel soap and drool

I knew it
But I’ve blown it anyway
That dick with rubber taste
Who hardly had a hard-on
And he always fell asleep (or faked it).

In the middle of these nights, he
Fucked me
He knew I had the fetish
To be fucked
While asleep.

Uncaring

Without warning.

Thinking of another man
And I knew it
And I liked when he fucked me
Waking up with his dick inside
Me and I got horny every time
Feeling his breath on my neck.

In the last year together he
Barely looked at my face,
Didn’t let me stick my dick in his
Ass. If I tried he said STOP.
Just he fucked me.
Without looking at me
And cummed fast and slept
While I jerked off alone.

Dickhead, coward. Fucked me up. Fag
I loved. And for that reason
I hated myself
Waiting oh the couch
From 8pm to 3am.
I hated myself
For not saying anything
When he started not to come home
At night.

Emergency surgeries,
Two, three, four, five
Nights a week
Without even passing by
Our house.

One day he left
And left me
A message: “there is no more
Love. I have to leave. Can
You put my things in a box?
It’s too painful for me.”

Fucker, son of a bitch. And on
The same day I was on
My knees gathering all the clothes
In the closet
Hoping he
Changed his mind
When he came to get
His ten-fucking-pounds books.

It was fucked up finding
Out he had a lover
For more than a year Almost
Two years after he left home.

After all that, talking to me, he
Thought by being sincere
He’d have any chance with me
And said he missed me
And have abandoned the guy
Who just wanted to fuck him
Two times a week
Just like he did with me.

I starved

Again
A ton of bills on my hands

I do not had even 5 percent
Of my salary to buy
My bread.

I grew up.

Every day I lived
Insanely lived
Every day was hard
Fucking hard.

I wanted to cry
But I didn’t have the time.

My time

Was work.
Busy guy.

Double shifts, four
Months owing money to
The bank
AGAIN.

And then I
Found myself and rised
Again, I found my way
Alone
But happy again.

I got involved with some guys
And out of desperation, a woman too
Thinking that
By innovating I could
Love again.

It has been a while since I
Don’t get my hole filled. I just
Blow them now and
Look to their faces while they’re cumming.

When I cum, an old dense jizz come out.
“Not healthy”, dr. Gustavo would say.

From time to time, rarely, I got
A hard-on when I wake up.

When I blow some guys
I lay down with my dick
Against the mattress
And it don’t stand hard
Nor for 5 minutes.
I just blow them.

On the Gustavo Era
I never thought I could stand
One day
Without cumming.

Even lonely
On that house, with him
Or not, every
Day I had to cum.

I was addicted to cum
But now, with a stoned heart,

I feel nothing.

Douchebag and cold

That’s how I feel.
Just like he was with me
in that last year of agony.

I left Frei Caneca street.

I could not stand seeing that
Closet that
made me empty inside.

Every piece of clothing I took made
me cry.

I tought I’d never get over that pain
Tearing my veins
Squeezing my guts
Fucking my brain.

He fucked my head up
My life
My asshole
But didn’t fucked up my will to live.
Alone
But alive.

Living to live my own life
To make my own decisions

To be fine.

This is my new definition of harmony.

 

 

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