When were you last fourteen

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I do not care about what you have. You are more than what’s in your blood. Blood is the same color red, red, red. I do care a great deal about what you have to offer. What you have to offer is vast and expansive. I cannot even imagine a world where you are not a living, breathing part of this thing that is my life.

Our so-called culture does not recognize that they have human rights, minds of their own, and that they are anything more than a market to sell pop culture junk to. We pretend we love “the children.” We pretend it is a family value. The reality is that we abuse them, fuck them, throw them into foster home after foster home, educate them in failing institutions because we are clueless as to what the alternatives are, and we treat them with enormous contempt. In the legal system, children are still regarded as property. The institution of the family itself has failed them. We have failed them. So how it is that we expect that they will do better than we did.

 

sometimes, they arrive and i cannot afford them

sometimes, they arrive and i cannot afford them/ they have no clue as to what they really cost/ i don’t know how they find me/ but the ones in hoodies have to hit the road, this would mean the ones hiding out inside the barn and who is bringing the prisoners food/ i cannot feed them, even if their lips represent another line of reasoning doesn’t mean it can be done/ and so they leave into the silence of the mountain and the razor wind that flows through it all like sentries of the night before the freeze will kill them hopefully downriver where the suicidal will not see them with their eyes of trains and all the lions of africa/

Cum in Lake

And so how does Simon reclaim his life.

When were you last fourteen.

 

Before the forest fires, we were always out on Lake Lure. Swimming. Filming. Painting. I have been able to make the Go Pro camera work for me. The boys had to show me how. But something was wrong with this small video. It was Simon who taught me how to work the color. “It’s like acid,” he said. LSD. Simon swimming in the water. Even the paintings have something to do with cum.

 

Simon knows new things. At 14, it’s still a time of intense discovery. That you can paint. That you can swim. That you can learn no matter what your past teachers have told you. That you can learn to love someone and that love is about reciprocity. Not domination or control.

 

Simon is so wise at 14. An artist.

 

Always the artist. It is the artist’s job to push you. To push you into places you had never thought to go. Simon is teaching me how to be an artist. He is fearless. I am filled with doubt.

 

I am the one who honestly believes you, the audience are not worth any boy’s audacity. I know all about your rage that we all must conform. I do not trust you. At all. And I know this: In time, Simon will learn to distrust you as well.

 

Domination, control, abuse, and rape are all he has ever seen. That the world is a scary place, but you are compelled to know it. That you will know it. That you can cum.

 

Simon is in love with a boy his age. This boy is not as well as Simon, and they have many obstacles to confront. They lost their home to fire but they are in a new one. Every single day, they get up and face life, and they do it together when they can.

 

That no disease will stop you in your tracks. Really, we could all learn a lot from Simon. It took me six weeks to get the color right. I now have this extraordinary perspective on the lake that I never had before.

 

Tim Barrus and the Smash Street Boys

 



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