I Feel Like Tacos

I think as I fuck my punk of a boyfriend,
in his room filled with posters of half naked girls and bands.

It all seems timed to the music that plays as we fuck,
Pantera or Slayer, I forget which.

He sleeps with me because he thinks I'll become
one of the chicks like the ones on the wall.

And I him because he'll be in a band
like the ones alongside them.

We cling to these fantasies as we furtively strive
to achieve all the pleasure we can.

Each hoping for the other
so that we can seem important.

As i stare at the piles of dirty clothes
as I lay on his unmade bed.

Desperately hoping his parents don't catch us.