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the whores on the hill

all of my friends make fun of me for talking to the teenagers. bill says, "you can never be a teacher, you'd molest all your students."

it's true that i find them to be beautiful, but it's not in a sexual way. it's not even just boys, it's girls too. the teenage girls, who have something that i want.

something that i had. something that i will never get back. and those boys, those same boys who never loved me then. they have something i want too. i fear i will always want it.

it's their youth that stuns me. it is stunning. beyond anything. to me, that it the most beautiful thing in the world and when i see them and talk to them, i run a fever for it. i want it to rub off. is it contagious?

i just want a glimpse of that beauty for myself. selfish. hungry. the most beautiful thing in the world. enchanting. i can't put my finger on it and i want to.

i once knew that secret handshake. that infinite feeling. the immunity to the coldest nights, the hottest days, the rest of the world. the woods, the bedroom ceiling, the telephone, the gas tank, the cigarettes.

the questions. what will i be? where will i go? who will i love? will he love me back?

it's beautiful because they don't know how beautiful they actually are. they won't know until it's too late.

but i suppose it's better that way.

6:55 p.m. - 2005-08-23

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history - mystery