__________
So many memories, too many to write: downtown Ke___, I was still in diapers, still before Trevor at least.
I liked good looking women, was always trying follow them around. I liked good looking men and would let them f-ck me if they had wanted to, but they didn’t.
I remember a Tyson Beckford looking guy, I couldn’t believe how good looking he was, but I wanted him, I wanted to be him or I wanted to do him.
I had no idea sex at that age might be wrong. I knew what Mom and R__ had done was wrong, but not sex. I could feel no degree of separation between sex. I remember the church. I remember the church near our house, too, but very slightly,
That was where all the grass was, I think, all these women, in the rural south, in the summers, and all this grass.
(My favorite thing back then was grass)( lol)
(This is how the truth and the understanding are going to prove this stuff to me, by mixing it all up with unmistakable new memories.)
I remember Spanish, I remember the Spanish House with the Spanish family with the stairs, stone stairs? Important stairs. Maybe. It had a small upstairs, and so much grass, everywhere, I loved grass. Spanish all the time, all the time ..
Remembered a lot more, mostly of the nights there which everyone pretended was a different world, separate from the waking hours.
He would hurt me in the middle of the night in the bathroom, and every night I would holler and scream and cry and he would pound me or pound his penis into my mouth, coming into my mouth, then him forcing a toothbrush and toothpaste into it and him brushing my teeth so the semen wouldn’t dry up so bad I couldn’t breathe.
Mom would stand at her bedroom door and listen, and A__ and H__ would listen from their own bed -- me screaming and hollering and crying -- but none of them would help me, though I cried out help me, help me, cried it out, desperately with each painful thrust. They felt they could get away with it because this wasn’t the real world and the only person who could catch them was God because I was long gone .. Once it goes that far, there’s no coming back from that.
The memory of Trevor wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough. I succumbed to ignorance, I stopped fighting, and R__ lost interest in me. I wouldn’t even move my lips when he’d put his dick in my mouth. I’d give him nothing, not a word, not a breath, nothing. And he stopped.
It was like a deal we made. I would pretend like none of it ever happened and R__ would stop raping me. He really hated me. He really really hated me. I was having sex with mom but that was such a long time ago.
R__ was so pissed when he found out Mom was still sleeping with me way after Smokey had me in the corner and they had stopped sleeping with me together.
All this happens in a matter of years. He wants me to forget that I’m a penetrater, he wants me to only be a penetratee, he wants me to forget. He wanted to teach me to forget by his penetrating me, but it wasn’t working, I wouldn’t psychologically become a penetratee. That was why he wouldn’t stop. He was so pissed by how strong I was. He was pissed that I had found another plane of thinking that he couldn’t reach because he was a guy, and never used the other half of his brain.
A__ and H__ and Mom knew I had cheated R__, but they didn’t get too serious with their always implied blackmail as long as I never showed a hint of sexuality or masculinity, that way they knew I was good and destroyed. That was the secret. Pretending. Pretending so well you forget. Cause Trevor was long, long gone. Years gone. Years and years and years.
That kind of story. How could I ever tell anyone. That plane. The nights of the house. That wave link, that other world. It was wordless, because it was where the soul was. It was the soul place. And Trevor was long gone. And sex was bad bad bad and I would always be bad bad bad, it just is, it just is. I can’t take anymore. I cried in secret. I could never seem hurt, that would imply memory, truth.
They thought God had fixed everything, because R__ went to church so desperately and Mom prayed in private so desperately. They needed Story more than anybody. By then I knew that they would kill me.
They had found the Soul place and raped me in it and now that we were all older he couldn’t rape me anymore without someone saying something so all that was left was for them to kill me.
Now this I can play. This game I can play. I’ll find the others not free and I’ll do it right. I’ll read their books by Toni Morrison. This I can do, and I’ll win. And I’ll Remember, remember whatever it was I’m supposed to remember. Whatever’s going on. .. To get to the truth by way of the Soul. That’s Big, Ben. That’s Big.
Syl__ -- the youth pastor -- turned Antwone. He raped him. Antwone wanted to tell me, because he thought I might be strong but I wasn’t gay enough to touch his dick, so then he changed his mind and didn’t tell me.
I could’ve saved him, I could’ve save us if I had remembered then and become Him. I could’ve called the authorities, I could’ve been stronger.
Their souls are still in the bad place. I remember, so my soul’s free. Not only that but it’s still young.
All your souls, the four of you’s, you’re stuck in that place, with the sound of me screaming, help me, help me. I’m haunting four lives. And will therefore haunt the lives of all your generations.
And I know, Mom and Dad, I’m your generation, and yes I’m doing so poorly, and you’ll always believe that because I’m going to make such a good show of it, you’ll think it’s all sowed up, it’s all in the bag, and then you’ll never find out about me again. And if you do, through face book or something it will be so many years and you’ll be so lost in you religious pretending and I’ll be so shocking to you as dumb masculinity, that the four of you will never remember, you’ll always be haunted by me. You’ll always be haunted by something you’ll never quite recognize as a lie: that you destroyed me.
Best yet, I surpassed your souls. I didn’t just surpass you in all other respects, materially, psychologically, education level, etc. But I surpassed you soulfully. You lose, you became Devils and will die for Real except by your children’s genes. And I’ll be a soul and live forever. Live Forever, But it’s a secret, R__, and Mom, and A__ and H__. I’ll never tell you, and you will die, And yes I know this is murder, I know this is crime -- because I’m a Tiger too, White Tiger -- and that’s the rest of it. Dig it?
I’m also the only one who’s having sex, while all of you are faking. Remember that too, just before you die, and you realize the Truth. Somehow, Remember that I’m the one who murdered your soul. I’m the one who murdered your generations, because you’d be so, so bad at sex. And you’d miss out on the whole world, while I get my whole life, in vivid color, in vivid perception, from the very, very beginning, to the very, very end, eternally.
And you absolutely ensured I’m Him, because that’s what these men have that make them Him. They have great Pain. That’s how I won. Brave Boy. Brave numbed out ghost. Brave Soul. Brave.
Once they found my soul place -- the place where Trevor and me secretly were, in the church balcony, in the living room alone, until R__ poked his head in and started laughing -- They all thought it was a necessary evil.
Like when you kill a mama bird and then have to go back and destroy her children. A__ and H__ and Mom felt that in order to make right all that had happened when I was really little -- back when no one would Leave Me Alone -- they had to destroy me and my memory.
I would never be able to admit what R__ had done to me in the soul place, they would make sure it was that Bad. Same as I could never remember what the soul place was like for me and Trevor.
That’s why E___ exists, and that story. On the one side the way I tell the story is true, but on the understanding, sexual side, I experienced what would’ve been my fate: a woman like E___, a bad woman, who deserved straight up penetration: sex which she didn’t enjoy, but which I did, using her like a rubber vagina basically to masturbate in -- the lowest form of sex. That’s the kind of bad sex the other souls know, the ones I murdered by my keeping the secret while still knowing it myself.
It’s like I’m re-remembering my whole life, now inside this new context, this new understanding, that keeps me free of it, keeps me All Stories, Keeps me Him.
(Looking at the bathroom upstairs, from where I’m sitting the way its decorated, its wall paper of old advertisements.) The only theme is the past. There’s moderne, but that counts as the past because its intention is timelessness.
__________
No comments:
Post a Comment