YOUNG STRONG BLACK NO LEGS

He was wounded in hatred, the song lyric cycling through her brain, which she nudged aside, replacing it with his face, she was thinking of him, her hand underneath the covers, she began to pleasure herself, he was beautiful, everything she desired, young, strong, black, no legs, which she liked, a maudlin sentiment, she knew, but didn’t care, he lost both from the knees down, one of the final victims of one of the final wars that still used non-targeted explosives, she wanted to know his pain, touch it, she imagined its depth, hand darting, body moaning, so much pain, so much to transfer to her, could she bear it, she wondered, coming hard, then wondered if he was gay, might that explain why he never seemed to reciprocate her entreaties, offering only casual co-worker pleasantries in return, she wondered then if him being gay was a bad thing, no, she thought, it just makes him more special, more in need of a soulmate, besides, there’s nothing he could do about that anyway, like all those skin grafts on his torso, or how he has such intense focus because his parents optimized his biology for just that while he was gestating, or the way his body rejects gluten and lactose, and how he bravely chooses not to take anything to overcome this, rather, he just eats mostly meat, unlike most people, admittedly the thought of consuming animal flesh made her queasy, but it was a part of him, another of the many things that made him unique, like how his eyelenses sparkled when he disconnected, or the way his earpods were kept muted, always shining white so that nobody could just tell his mood, but she didn’t need to know the color of his earpods to know his mood, to know of his swirling torments, once again she imagined him on top of her, his thick arms and bionic hands gently holding her down, the pharma keeping him going, the meds taken just before hyper-stimulating the pleasure centers of their brains, she thought of how he preferred to communicate only in text, which was just fine by her, she would speak for the both of them, they would be as one, she came again, gathered herself and spoke, “picturing you,” and told Giant Brain to send him that video of her.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

*