I remember that I wanted to remember the lights coming at me. My eyes fighting for focus out of focus into focus swimming in beer. The twenty year olds. The ground. The music and I tried. Hands. The lights coming at me. A comforting threat. A back room. I remember sitting in a plastic lawn chair. Speakers thumping my chest. I remember intensity. I remember watching a spider spinning its web. I remember watching a spider for a long time. In. Out. Frenetic. Reverent. Sipping from a red cup. The spider spun. The spider. And the spider and the spider.

I come to in some of my clothes. Floor. Dark. Drunk. Lost. John’s hand. In my shirt. Vomit. I try to remember. And stumble, I try to remember, to the bathroom. I piss. Elbows pierce knees support head. Red stripes in the blue lights. All over my skin. Tracing them with all of my fingers. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. A memory? Calligraphic signatures. Blood. Between my legs. Raw. Red stripes – a painting. A fall. A stumble. I cover myself. I lay down on the couch. John snores, smelling. Others rustle. The room. full of breath. I try to remember. I remember:

The lights came at me and the legs made the stripes. I didn’t forget. Here they were. So crisp/frayed. The music. The red cup. Gone. Where were we? Do you call those (mandibles?). Hairy, so unsoft. Your chest (abdomen?). You do good work, I said, conveyed. I was watching you. My two eyes. My two legs. My two arms. Outnumbered. Did you see me? I watched you. I wanted to fuck you, he said. That’s why I’m here. To fuck you. Clicking heat. The sleeve of my blouse fell down. Too much skin fell out. Looked at you and that’s when the legs came at me. Came at me like the lights. Like a cornfield, like a protest, but unsoft and the stripes. Came my breasts in his (claws?) his many joints. An orgy of two. His jaws clicking. YES. So many times we said this. Staccato. But did you see me watching you? Shut up bitch, he said, and I was torn. Naked. Yes. Again. And again. He (licked?) me and I pushed into his mouth. His legs, fences, forcing. Yes. So good. I closed my eyes. You tasted so good. I came into his (mouth?) and he said, I’m gonna fuck your hot pussy now. We pressed together. The lights coming at me. This is when I want to remember. So wet, so goddamn wet he said to himself. The nightmare slipped inside me and his legs wrapped me like a victim and he (spat?) (venom?) from his (face?) into mine. Screel noises. So good, each pump. The stripes. My cunt. The hot pain. My reluctant orgasm. He (laughed?). More screels. Pin cushion needles briar patch crayfish sea urchin. I’m fucking cumming! I’m cumming in your tight little pussy! The light stopped coming. Slow down. Stop. Reverse. Speed up. The stripes: deployed. Chamber empty. His massive weight shifted to the floor. I floated in response. (Semen?) hot, grainy, gallons, spilled from me; a bag of viscous waters. I try to remember. How he got so big. I try to remember where my red cup went and when I left the chair. When will it stop draining? He laughed. You’re a nice fucking piece of ass. I saw his (claws?) twiddling his (dick?) I don’t want to believe it was inside of me. I try to stop remembering. I dislocate.

The sun takes my eyes open. John is sucking my nipples, his head under my shirt, his masturbating wet rhythmic clicking. My mouth is glued shut. Again. The others sleep. He clamps down on my breast and groans his climax. Exhales; a screel. I cannot remember or I do not care to or I choose not to and therefore, do not try.