Something Else

When I first saw you I was standing outside your door waiting for the right moment to
and you were lying on the hard wood in your kitchen in the nude petting a roach
Ever since then I’ve been equally afraid of you and afraid of losing you
When I came in that night you swore to me you never do that kind of thing
“I really never do that sort of thing”
You blushed

You printed out the Wikipedia page for “blood clot”
and read it in your best Werner Herzog voice
Then you made me get drunk with you
and at one point you made me go to the hospital
saying “hurry up and get your shoes on you need stitches like really bad”
I got fourteen stitches in my skull where you hit me with the wine bottle
while we were playing “tag”

When you come around I hide, out of real fear
But when you find me it’s always a drymouthed gasp of orgasmic relief
sometimes I wonder if my only choice left is to simply kill you
but usually I just try to keep us both alive
despite the odds


Elliot Swain is a writer of fiction, poetry, and critical nonfiction working out of Baltimore. He is currently a student of literature and philosophy. Elliot’s work tends toward the absurd or abrasive, and deals with issues of alienation and authority.

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