3 Experimental Texts, by Adam Lehrer
some new pieces for a new year
“I love Attention, I know I’m Wrong”
Magazines were portals before the introduction of the black hole
The live audience questions went off the rails
They all wanted to be the stars of the show
I wanted it too, I felt guilty about taking pleasure in the sound of my own voice
I wanted nothing, I take pleasure in nothing
Have you ever listened to Suicide, Prince, Profanatica and Huey Lewis and the News all at once?
Have you ever masturbated to the Titanic?
I learned how to cum watching Nadia in American Pie
It was at the Atlantis in the Bahamas, and body surfing was fun enough for the morning,
But I needed to cum in the afternoon
It’s been like that ever since
I have a demon in me
If only it were so simple
In reality, it’s fraud
I fail because I desire
My desire is an ego death
The id takes the wheel the second she looks at me and tells me she likes my style
I love attention
It’s my curse, I don’t feel like myself unless I know they want to fuck me
Therapy hasn’t gotten through to me
I know I’m wrong
I want to be better and to love purely
I want to change, sort of
Nadia from American Pie made me cum
A scandalizing upbringing made me weak
I’m so tired of keeping my secrets from her
I love her more than anything in the world
I’d die for her
But she’d never forgive me
I’m damned by desire
I’m sentenced to heartbreak and the loss of my love
I’d do anything to make it right, to change
I wish I could rip this wretched desire out of me like a tumor
But tumors only grow
I’ll stay home for now
“Prolactin”
In a bleary eyed state of mind
When the body can’t tell whether it craves sex or food or sedation
My prolactin is spiked and making love feels less like pleasure than an arduous grind
It’s humiliating, to not be able to fuck her like I used to
How long must I pay for my vanity?
How long will God continue to punish me?
I promise the next seed borne of my loins will be cherished and loved
All I want is some evidence that I was here at all
What is the point of life if not to leave a future behind
My muscles are atrophying and my strength is depleted
But I don’t care, it’s no longer important to me
Please god, give me back my vitality, I used to brim with it
Without it I feel dead
To not cum inside of her with pleasure and ease is worse than any curse I could ever conceive of laying down upon my enemies
I know a man inflicts himself with god’s Retribution
I see that now
This body is sacred, my organs are sacred, and fragile
I see that now
Please, release me
Release my son
”The Ambiguous Orientation of Peter Greenaway”
I watched several Peter Greenaway films
Wondering how in the hell the artist wasn’t gay
Can a heterosexual man’s art be gay?
His inner world, all gay?
Illustration by Jindrich Strysky