Blood Brothers

And this is what happens when you force a poem.

Don't try this at home.

Blood Brothers

I assume we were blood brothers,
though we never bled enough to tell.
Beer brothers at the very least,
drowning in whiskey together,
my hand not in his as we crossed
black streets.

I am not sure when 'are' became 'were',
when my blood coagulated and turned into
something irrevocably different,
irrevocably queer and possibly sinister,
when the jeans I wore became even more cum-stained
than his.

But when they did, what we had stopped being an
adventure and started being a
crusade.

--

Also, I apparently love myself to the point that I am uninterested in other people.
I wish someone could have told me this earlier.