Where I Am Right Now
I don’t want people to die, but I want the world to burn in a cinematic sense.
I’ve been told I seem kind of gay, as if my sexuality is something I care to convey to
strangers.
I want to be flamboyant for a boy and have that be ok with people.
Same with these things: Sometimes I count plastic stars on my ceiling.
At mass, I used to envision an escape plan. Usually a rope was involved.
And I am in love with men and women and the profundity of loneliness.
Moral of the story:
I still live with my parents. My dog is buried under a pine tree next to a pine tree.
Post-College Blues
There’s a movie called It Follows, which is about these kids who, if they catch this
sexually transmitted thing, will be followed by a monster.
At one point the monster looks like the girl’s father. I was like O HELL NO.
There are multiple killings.
The dead bodies resemble modern art.
I want to be followed by a monster that kindly reminds me to do laundry and then leaves
me alone.
Lazy Sunday
Today I woke up remembering the time my sixth grade sex-ed teacher tried to describe
how semen feels by comparing it to undercooked egg whites.
Cheerios are dull circles drowning in cow cum.
Fruit loops are Cheerios that smoked hella weed.
It’s now 3:31 pm.
I have no opinions on Cocoa Puffs.
Louis Raymond is a Pushcart Prize-nominated writer, book reviewer, and teacher from Biddeford, Maine. He is the author of the e-book Paper Heart (2015, Thought Catalog), and his poems, essays, and stories have been featured in array of places, such as Entropy, The Bicycle Review, Extract(s), Cheap Pop Lit, Ray’s Road Review, and on The Flexible Persona Podcast. This past April, he was named a Martin Dibner Fellow of Fiction Writing. Find him on tumblr.