Ethology Observed


Alex’s skin-pop bulged,
Composing the outline of a bell
From his chiming pulse
Resounded an overcast
Across needle pokes
Thin and black
As the pupils that dotted his eyes.

“Slouched towards paradise”
Off the couch
Stared at his stumbles
Through a constricted glare
As he annunciated words
Lazy like his posture.

He ran from paradise.
His arm
Numb and false.

I slept on his couch-
Concerned about naught
And sex.

We found company
Days later,
“Want to see a trick?”
He asked.
“Sure,” I replied.

With a new syringe
He stabbed where the skin-pop occurred,
A smile draped
On his pockmarked cheeks.

“I can’t feel that!
I lost all the feeling!
I have no fucking nerves there, dude”

And for 10 minutes
We took turns
Piercing his flesh
Laughing like young boys
Frying ants
With a magnifying glass.

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