Crush Read Online Free Page B

never quit.
    See, we’ve won again,
    here we are at the place where I get to beg for it where I get to say Please ,
    for just one night, will you lay down next to me, we can leave our clothes on,
    we can stay all buttoned up?
    But we both know how it goes–– I say I want you inside me and you hold
    my head underwater, I say I want you inside me and you split me open
    with a knife.
    I’m battling monsters, I’m pulling you out of the burning buildings
    and you say I’ll give you anything but you never come through.
    Even when you’re standing up
    you look like you’re lying down, but will you let me kiss your neck, baby?
    Do I have to tie your arms down? Do I have to stick my tongue in your
    mouth like the hand of a thief,
    like a burglary, like it’s just another petty theft? It makes me tired,
    Henry. Do you see what I mean? Do you see what I’m getting at?
    I swear, I end up
    feeling empty, like you’ve taken something out of me, and I have to search
    my body for the scars, thinking Did he find that one last tender place to
    sink his teeth in?
    I know you want me to say it, Henry, it’s in the script, you want me to say
    Lie down on the bed, you’re all I ever wanted and worth dying for too...
    but I think I’d rather keep the bullet.
    It’s mine, see, I’m not giving it up. This way you still owe me, and that’s
    as good as anything. You can’t get out of this one, Henry, you can’t get it
    out of me, and with this bullet lodged in my chest,
    covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because I’m hungry
    and hollow and just want something to call my own. I’ll be your
    slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue
    and final resting, walking around with this bullet inside me like the bullet
    was already there, like it’s been waiting inside me the whole time.
    Do you want it? Do you want anything I have?
    Will you throw me to the ground like you mean it, reach inside and wrestle
    it out with your bare hands? If you love me, Henry, you don’t love me
    in a way I understand.
    Do you know how it ends? Do you feel lucky? Do you want to go home
    now? There’s a bottle of whiskey in the trunk of the Chevy and a
    dead man at our feet
    staring up at us like we’re something interesting. This is where the evening
    splits in half, Henry, love or death. Grab an end, pull hard,
    and make a wish.
    Driving, Not Washing
    It starts with bloodshed, always bloodshed, always the same
    running from something larger than yourself story,
    shoving money into the jaws of a suitcase, cutting your hair
    with a steak knife at a rest stop,
    and you're off, you're on the run, a fugitive driving away from
    something shameful and half-remembered.
    They're hurling their bodies down the freeway
    to the smell of gasoline,
    which is the sound of a voice saying I told you so.
    Yes, you did dear.
    Every story has its chapter in the desert, the long slide from kingdom
    to kingdom through the wilderness,
    where you learn things, where you're left to your own devices.
    Henry's driving,
    and Theodore's bleeding shotgun into the upholstery.
    It's a road movie,
    a double-feature, two boys striking out across America, while desire,
    like a monster, crawls up out of the lake
    with all of us watching, with all of us wondering if these two boys will
    find a way to figure it out.
    Here is the black box, the shut eye,
    the bullet pearling in his living skin. This boy, half-destroyed,
    screaming Drive into that tree, drive off the embankment.
    Henry, make something happen.
    But angels are pouring out of the farmland, angels are swarming
    over the grassland,
    Angels rising from their little dens, arms swinging, wings aflutter,
    dropping their white-hot bombs of love.
    We are not dirty, he keeps saying. We are not dirty...
    They want you to love the whole damn world but you won't,
    you want it all narrowed down to one fleshy man in the bath,
    who knows what to do with his body, with his hands.
    It should follow,
    you know this, like