It is Written

"Donte called."

"Cool."

"And that boy Danny called."

"When?"

"A little while ago."

"How long ago?"

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes?"

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You were sleeping."

"So?"

"Who is this boy?"

"A close friend of mine. Why?"

"I don't know, it's just seems odd-"

"What seems odd?"

"That you're so close to someone you just met-"

"We've got a lot in common-"

"Like what?"

"Like we like a lot of the same things, music, books, and movies and stuff. And we have the same sense of humor- Why?"

"I don't know, he's just kind of-"

"What?"

"I thought he was a girl-"

"He's not-"

"Does he like girls?"

"Jesus Christ, Mom-"

"Language-"

"Language!"

"Dan, what do you think?"

"Well, The Bible is pretty clear-"

"Fuck The Bible!"

"Mark!"

"Sarah!"

"What the fuck? Somebody writes something in a fucking book and you believe it hook, line, and fucking sinker because you're afraid to die?"

"It's the word of God, Mark-"

"It's the word of a bunch of fucking dudes who hate you and me and everybody else and want to control every fucking thing we do."

"Language, Mark-"

"Language, Sarah!"

Mark looks around hurriedly, then makes his way to the counter, pulls out a sheet of looseleaf and a pen, scribbles like a meth machine. Then grabs a knife, shovels it through the sheet perpendicular to its faded blue lines, holds it above his head and slams the shivering blade into the center of the table, between his mother and her boyfriend.

And he walks out of the kitchen shrugging, "Then fucking believe this":

Truth/Beauty

Mark laid the stack of well-thumbed papers on his desk behind him, on top of The Day Doesn't Care, the latest book of poetry by his favorite poet, then turned to Danny, who sat opposite him on the bed. "I like your stories. I did notice that there're a couple different themes that seem to run through them-"

Danny sat up, pushing his face within inches of Mark's, his green eyes widening under his charcoal-black bangs.

"In all of your stories, you're the main character, and they all involve you saving the world while at the same time being on the run from somebody who wants your ass-"

Danny nodded, giggling, a hint of white teeth showing through his parting lips.

Mark laughed. "I mean, even in BE A MAN, BE A MONK!-"

Danny's nodding head increased its velocity.

"And you love alliteration-"

Danny's head steadied itself. "Well, you know, that represents the alliterativeness of the world. It mirrors Life's endless repetitiveness. If you notice, I really only use it-"

"In the parts where somebody's about to get your ass. Because everybody wants your ass, right?"

Danny smiled and stuck out his tongue.

Mark analyzed his mucous membranes for an unconscious second and realized they contained too much snot. So he sucked a handful down the back of his throat-

"Hold it!"

So Mark held it, resting the viscous, spinning mass on the back of his tongue. Until Danny's hand curved around the back of his neck, molded their lips together, and vacuumed it into his mouth. Danny leaned his head back and Mark watched Danny's Adam's apple undulate as he swallowed the biggest snotball Mark had mustered in months.

"It's almost as sweet as your cum-"

"Really?"

"Yeah, like the blood of Christ-"

"I'll give you the blood of Christ-"

Mark reached behind him without taking his eyes off Danny's, his little hard-on scratching his underwear, and reached into the top drawer of his desk. In one motion, he slithered off his T-shirt with his left hand as he clicked his straight razor open with his right. The blade slid mercilessly across his chest with a flick of his wrist, and he grabbed Danny's blackened hair in a fist, guiding the boy's quivering lips to his sliced nipple, where they slurped furiously. As the short, deep scar began to coagulate, he drew Danny's head back and tasted his own blood in his boyfriend's mouth.

"I want to taste all of you," gasped Danny.

"Well, you're not tasting my shit-"

"No, not that, that's not you, that's what you don't want as a part of you-"

Mark peeled Danny's shirt, pants, and underwear from his body and gulped his dick into his throat, the pre-ejaculate a welcome sting to his esophagus. A few minutes and Danny's hips began to jerk and he slinked up Danny's veiny body, smearing it with the remnants of his razor work, as Danny slid in the opposite direction, taking Mark's baggy jeans with him and grabbing his dick around its base.

"You're the only one who's never made fun of my dick-"

"Why would I?"

"Because it's so small-"

"But I love you and it's a part of you and if you really love somebody then you love every part of him-"

And Danny took Mark's cock and balls into his mouth in one swallow, as Mark's eyes welled for the first time in years.

Y.S.E. (You're So Emo)

1.

Have you ever seen someone so beautiful
That you wanted to die?
I could look at you forever and find
Something new every minute
That I’ve loved all the time.

2.

I was going to write you
A love song,
But then I remembered
You don’t love me back,
So I threw the paper away
And typed this instead.

3.

You won't remember my kiss
because you were asleep,
dreaming
of someone else
and not me.
But that's okay-
I dream too,
though
I don't mind admitting
it's just about you.

4.

If I went away
you could play
much better.

But that's assuming
you even care
one way or the other.

Danny lay across Mark's bed, his extra-small, blank, white T-shirt halfway up his hairless belly, his tight, low-slung black jeans slung lower with making himself comfortable, a ruffle of green boxers edging out above his belt. Mark watched him as he read his work, his eyes slipping underneath the looseleaf pages and down the boy's fatless length to the knot on the left side of his zipper, which mirrored his own, if a bit larger.

"Wow, you really must have loved...her?"

"Her?" Mark grinned until he saw a smile spread across Danny's face. "Yes, I was very much in love. Still am."

"Aww, that's sweet-"

"It's hell-"

"Yeah." Danny laid the sheets of paper between them on the New York Giants-clad comforter, then turned on his side toward Mark, his shaggy head resting on his hand.

"Because when I fall for somebody, I fall quickly and I fall hard and it's difficult for me to get back up-" Mark turned onto his side to face his friend, his poetry crumpling under him. "Do you know what I mean?"

Danny nodded. Then looked to Mark's lips. Then his neck. And his black T-shirt and white jeans. And back up. "I like that choker." He put a finger to it, pressing it into Mark's collarbone. "Is that real bone?"

"It's human teeth-"

Danny laughed.

Mark grabbed the inverted cross that hung from Danny's gold necklace. "This is pretty cool-"

Danny laughed again, going quiet as his eyes locked onto Mark's glaring irises.

Mark tightened his grasp on the cross. "You look so much like him-"

"I'm not him-"

"Good-" And he pulled Danny's face to his, their hungry lips crashing softly together.

The New Kid

"So you are from California?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Cedarville must be a bit of a culture shock for you then?"

"It's...different."

Mrs. Wright laughed. "Okay, today, we are working on our creative writing projects. I am going to need you to pair up with someone-"

"He can be my partner," said Mark, his hand raised.

A few giggles and a couple laughs came from the other 30 students in the room.

"What?" Mark looked around the room, grinning. "Just because I'll die for my art?" He shrugged.

"All right, Mark," sighed Mrs. Wright, laughing. She looked to her new student. "Mark is your partner. He will show you what we are doing. We just started this project a month ago and they are not due for another 8 and a half weeks, so you will have enough time. Especially with Mr. Dennison's guidance-"

The class' giggling was replaced by the scratching of desks and sneakers on the hardwood floor. Mark watched as the skinniest kid he'd ever seen approached him, 3 or 4 books gathered in one arm, his other hand brushing a thick swath of shaggy blackened hair out of eyes so green they looked as if someone had soaked them in a melted crayon. He put out his hand.

"I'm Danny."

"I'm Mark. Poet, provocateur, superstar-"

"I can tell." Danny laughed, flashing a set of perfect white teeth, the canines the same length as the rest, and a pair of dimples so deep they seemed to meet somewhere in the middle of his mouth. "Mrs. Wright seems nice-"

"She is. Very nice." Mark brought his voice down to a whisper and locked his eyes on to Danny's, whose didn't waver. "Be nice to her. Her son committed suicide-"

"Oh, shit-"

"Yeah, and what's worse is he killed his little brother first-"

"Holy fuck-"

"I know. And some people say he raped his dead body-"

"What the-"

"Shhh." Mark looked around. "Just be careful what you say around her. And me too. Maury was my best friend." Mark forced his eyes to swell with impending tears that would never come.

"Dude, I'm sorry-"

Mark shook his head. "It's okay. It's just that we never saw it coming, you know-"

"I understand-"

"Cool." Mark sucked in a gigantic portion of the room's air and let it out in a sigh. "So, we've got a project here-"

"Creative writing?"

"Well-" Mark stopped, staring into Danny's eyes for another 15 seconds. "You know what? You look so much like this friend of mine that I used to have, I feel like I'm talking to him from beyond the grave-"

"Maury?"

"No. Daniel. He was my best friend-"

"How'd he die?"

"He fell asleep smoking a cigarette, with his girlfriend beside him-"

"Wow-"

"Yeah, I know." Mark put up a hand. "Okay, enough morbidity. Here's the project: submit a rough draft of a short story or a novel in progress up to ten thousand words in length by the end of April. You can work on it as much as you want, of course, but we meet twice a week here in school to go over our work with each other to get feedback and criticism and whatnot. Mrs. Wright is going to submit the five best to agents and publishers in New York and see what happens. Also, she is putting together a literary mag for the school that will feature the 20 best entries in all her classes."

"That's cool. So what are you doing, a short story or a novel?"

"Neither. I'm working on a poetry collection-"

"Huh?"

"Dude," Mark grinned as he continued looking into Danny's eyes, which hadn't moved from his or blinked in the last 30 minutes, "I don't ever fucking do what I'm told."

Danny smiled, his dimples kissing his tongue. "I like you-"

"I like you too-"

Leader of the Pack

Mark, his body white from lack of sun, lay back on the chilled metal table, his arms stretched out to his sides, his ankles crossed.

"Fuck me like Jesus Christ," he said.

A chorus that included several "Woo Hoo's" and one "Fuck the shit out of that white boy" went up from the 20 black guys, aged anywhere from 15 to 25, standing against the wall of the science lab, which they had easily slipped into with a key from one of the gang's fathers, Cedarville's best science teacher and winner of the county's "Teacher of the Year" award three years running.

Delonte, at the far end, stepped up to the table and grabbed Mark's ankles, sliding his lean, vascular body towards him until his ass was at the table's edge. He spread Mark's legs and pushed them back until Mark's knees pressed comfortably against his collarbone. "Hold your legs back, bitch," he commanded and Mark did as he was told with a giggle. Delonte grabbed an open 40oz from one of his crew and tipped it over Mark's genitals, the frothy beer soaking Mark's hard-on and tightened scrotum, then his asshole, which he puckered in and out to sip the warm brew.

Delonte pushed his baggy jeans down to his feet without unbuckling or unsnapping them, revealing the largest penis Mark had ever seen, a long, knotty, two-toned affair that looked like a branch broken from an old, burnt oak rather than a man's dick. The black man spit in his hand and stroked his cock until it was even more erect, his pre-ejaculate mixing with his saliva, the veins along his penis glistening and as thick as fingers-

"Fuck me with that little dick of yours," said Mark.

And Delonte obliged, stepping up and pushing his massive meat into Mark's waiting hole, burying it to the base in one stroke, Mark's anus ripping bloody to accept it, his unheld breath allowing him to experience the pleasure in the pain....

Then a bump bump bump the table's legs squealing Mark's body jolting with Delonte's cumming cock he exits with a plop another steps up smaller more forceful in out in out Delonte running around the side measuring up to Mark's lips for a cleaning stuffing it into his esophagus his shriveled balls cushioning into Mark's nose the scent of iron chlorine shit the taste of his ass like heaven a few ropes more of the extra-large cock's cum splashing his vocal chords before being withdrawn replaced by the dick that just showered his rectum replaced by a smaller dick and on and on until the break of dawn heart pummping rhythms to his ears breaths quick short through his nose passing the pipe hittin' the rock a cerebral orgasm Glock round chambered cocked piercing the hole then there were two Mark gets up his ass mashing slipping through the puddle of fuck blood a warm forty 18 Cedarville Niggers' after-cum saliva the last two lay on the table at opposite ends their legs intertwined their crotches mashed their 8 and a half inchers the smallest held together by a generous hand Mark jumps onto the table squats on both of them rocking back forth back forth massaging his prostate with 17 inches his four-incher hard with the cum about to shoot over his shoulder Donte steps up mashes lips with him their lips don't feel any bigger when you kiss them no matter what they look like the two are finished Mark rolls over pulls his legs back "Eat my ass so I can cum" Donte's knees hit the tiled floor tongue out meshing with Mark's asshole Mark jerking his little dick wet with pre-cum ejaculates his eyes closed torso stiff the sound of his cum hitting just under his ear tinny bip bip bip his hole opens the cum of 20 of Cedarville's finest niggers smothering Donte's face "Woo Hoo, good times" "Huzzah!" "Look at dat shit" "Donte's a white boy" Hahahahahahahahahahaha

Mark grabbed a towel and put it to his asshole, soaking up the damage wrought by his fellow gang members. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his other hand and watched as they put on their clothes. Donte came over to him, his face finally clean, and slipped his baseball cap onto Mark's head.

"Get dressed, you crazy son of a bitch," he said.

Mark laughed as the rest of the guys turned around to look at him. He put his hands in the air and shrugged.

"Is that all you niggers got?" he said.