Ménage À Trois (2007) Poem by Tyler Ste

There was something in those girls I really didn't like... a restless instability. It were as though if you got to them, made them mad, took away their assumed power, they would not slap, or scream in your face; not these girls. They would claw you. They would tear into you with intent to maim. These girls had been hurt real bad somewhere down the line and they were damaged goods. It was that dangerous facade that made them so attractive; a line in the sand I found comfort in. It let me know that under the concealer, the mascara, the lip gloss, underneath the masks, there was fear. If I stopped wanting them more than they wanted me, or needing them more, they'd move on; I let them have it. They needed to be desired at all times and as draining as it was, it was somehow worth it, to learn from them. They perceived themselves as sexual creatures but it was something else, something in their environment that had shaped their personality. It was symptomatic, it was a disease. They were ill and I was naive (ill in my own right) to think that I could protect and fix them.