I wrote this one yesterday at fiction workshop (remember, i also ran a marathon in the morning, so excuse any spelling or idea mistakes!)



(workshops directed by Mr Spurgeon Thompson)
 
 
The Lollipop



I am asleep. Deep, deeper, more sunken than any other nights.


My open eye is making the sheets,


snore by snore, body so exhausted


the eye works so slowly that I am left white






The carpet in the room stands up billowing dust


a boy appears behind and throws it out in the pool.


I get up stark naked, hands over jewels, and I see him, full.


“I have a lollipop to replace the carpet” he says






He is cute, I’m mad, reminiscence of Da Vinci’s quests.


“Can I tell you your secrets?” he asks


I say he would have no clue, no rhyme


Boy in fury starts unraveling this ball of yarn






“Hold the lollipop!” I start licking just to hear about


the day I last peed in my bed


how I made my father laugh when she died


the fastidious lollipop she gave me the night she passed away






Just as both my eyes tackle the sheets


he jumps off the window into the pool


to land flat on the carpet


as he departs I still hear him shout my secrets in the distance






“You cheated from my test and I got busted!”


“the bike you lent me is still in my dad’s garage!”


“your father was screwing my mother too”


“I am the only one you can trust”






I shall not trust him if he ever reappears.


The lollipop is nearly done, my eyes leap for the carpet in the pool.