2. Sic Transit Gloria…Glory Fades

I don’t own this. Brand New Deja Entendu Keep the noise low. She doesn’t wanna blow it. Shaking from head to toe while your left hand does “the show me around.” Quickens your heartbeat. It beats me straight into the ground. You don’t recover from a night like this. A victim still lying in bed, completely motionless. A hand moves in the dark to a zipper. Hear a boy bracing tight against sheets barely whisper, “This is so messed up.” Upon arrival the guests had all stared. Dripping wet and clearly depressed, he’d headed straight for the stairs. No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch, unprepared for a life full of lies and failing relationships. (Up the stairs: the station where the act becomes the art of growing up.) He keeps his hands low. He doesn’t wanna blow it. He’s wet from head to toe and his eyes give her the up and the down. His stomach turns and he thinks of throwing up. But the body on the bed beckons forward and he starts growing up. The fever, the focus. The reasons that I had to believe you weren’t too hard to sell. Die young and save yourself. The tickle, the taste of… It used to be the reason I breathed, but now it’s choking me up. Die young and save yourself. She hits the lights. This doesn’t seem quite fair. Despite everything he learned from his friends, he doesn’t feel so prepared. She’s breathing quiet and smooth. He’s gasping for air. “This is the first and last time,” he says. She fakes a smile and presses her hips into his. He keeps his hands pinned …
Video Rating: 4 / 5