Rough and Rambly Things: Condom
It's a little rough, because this one has a very distinct vocal pattern to it, so trying to read it is weird. It's also really fast tempo.
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The hole in the condom is eighteen years old now. Has brown hair, brown eyes, a high school diploma and a penchant for hating himself. Loves old movies and McDonalds french fries and bowls over-handed, used to spend every lunch period in a practice room or smoking cigarettes outside the art wing, lighting Marlboro Menthols like they're being discontinued.
He didn’t think he’d grow up to be this way, picking dirt out of his fingernails and flicking cigarette ash off of windowsills, jeans worn low on hips, button-down open over tattoo t-shirt torn, two sizes too big tells you he’s nothing but trouble. He’s had three years of Latin but can only tell you three things: Carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe omnis. Sieze the day, sieze the night, and take, take everything, carved that into his desk in tenth grade and earned two diem in detention. Wears aviator headphones- not the two hundred dollar kind from Best Buy but the kind you need a two-inch converter just to listen to your iPod, course, he never had an iPod spent all his money on words and paper to put his words on so they’d have something to make fun of when he left.
She didn’t think he’d grow up to be this way. Her pretty little girl nothing but pink and lace, dresses and maryjanes right up to the third grade. Girl scouts and violin and pom poms, cookie rallies and babysitting. She saw Seventeen magazine and nail polish shopping mall boy-band poster. She saw senior prom make-up tips and a dress with a full skirt. Saw a wedding dress, something borrowed and something blue. Thought husband and old Victorian, 1.3 grandchildren and a golden retriever.
He didn’t think he’d grow up to be this way. When he heard “little girl” he saw ballet recital, pink tutu pirouette and tea party. Thought easy-bake oven and Barbie Dreamhouse, Polly Pocket and sewing machine. Bought pink bubble-gum cigars and silver mylar balloons that said “IT’S A GIRL”. Prepared for hairspray and two-hour showers and beating the boys off with a stick. Moved into a suburb with a swimming pool and no sidewalks, painted a corner room with pink tulips and picket fences, white trellis and clouds sponged across the ceiling, all wicker furniture and flowered bedspread.
The hole in the condom is eighteen years old now. Hides the tulips on the walls with street signs and duct tape. Moved out of the four bedroom ranch and into a dorm room with a rainbow flag on the wall, hides his dress shirts in the closet when his parents come to visit, keeps a dress, eyeliner, and the wrong name on the door for emergencies.
The hole in the condom, is eighteen years old now. Didn’t think he’d grow up to be this way. They all, had another think coming.