Kofi Fosu Forson
Horatio is a street. There’s a park not too far away. I swear to God, some nights I look close enough, I can see needles. You know the kind. I sit there and watch the hot guys…Those with the thick veins popping out of their arms. If I were to die, I’d be the girl with fake eye-lashes. How can I ever be bone-thin? I’m a fat cat stretched out on a bed reminiscing about a guy I fucked over.
So this guy used to wait for me in the rain. I used to pretend I was Madonna. I’d call him up around midnight. I’d make my voice sound sexy and shit. I taunted and teased him. “Oh you know. Come on, like you don’t know. I will. Anything you say.” I’d meet him down on Washington Square Park. We were wet. Kinda like a horny divorced mother during happy hour. Yeah.
We walked in the rain. I had my head on his shoulder. He mumbled a lot. We would go into some bar or whatever. This one night, we were so fuckin’ drunk. I noticed my lipstick on his teeth. Coming down the stairs, I begged him to stick his finger up my skirt. I wanted him to talk to me like a pimp.
On the grey couch as you walk into the apartment is where I lost my virginity to a guy I don’t even give a fuck about anymore but on those Monday nights after I had spent Sunday evening on ecstasy it’s easy to think about him so I just crouch in the fetal position and picture him in boxer shorts.
My lovers would walk in. One after the other, they banged me. After they got through hammering me, I would go to sleep. There was blood between my legs. The telephone would keep ringing all day. When I picked it up, the guy I had fucked over would start bitchin’ about wanting to kill himself. I ignored him. Why? I was thinking of chocolate. I was a fat cat bent over the kitchen sink.
I had this guy come over once a week. He was into bondage. I made him beat me up. I had all these bruises on my face.
Every morning, I’d sit there all alone. I had a knife in my hand. I scratched my arm with the dull part of the knife. I’d keep scratching myself with the knife. When I started to bleed a little bit, I would stop. It got pretty intense one morning. I got pissed off about one thing or another. I sat there with the knife. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing. I looked down; there was blood all over the place.
I woke up in a hospital. A week later, the fuckin’ looser guy comes over to see me. I dragged him into the bathroom. Didn’t wanna do him or nothing. I just wanted a smoke. We came over to the waiting area. I was lying on my back. I told him to get on top of me. I wanted to do it. He kept staring at me, looking right into my eyes.