{"id":12841,"date":"2016-08-01T00:00:33","date_gmt":"2016-08-01T06:00:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/?p=12841"},"modified":"2016-07-31T22:00:37","modified_gmt":"2016-08-01T04:00:37","slug":"late-night-with-the-prince-of-ruin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/archives\/12841","title":{"rendered":"Late Night with the Prince of Ruin"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>I\u2019m not sure if I have any hands<br \/>\nwhen I am alone, unheld. I don\u2019t want<br \/>\nto say what I\u2019ve done lately to feel<br \/>\nmyself: the man with the chemical peel<br \/>\nwhose face fell off in chunks<br \/>\nall over me the first time we fucked.<br \/>\nThe mini-mansion I called Grey Gardens,<br \/>\nknowing he didn\u2019t watch movies<br \/>\nwith women in leading roles,<br \/>\nwouldn\u2019t catch the insult. Everything<br \/>\nhe owned thrown across whatever<br \/>\nstood still. A mess fit for a ruined prince.<br \/>\nCall him Hamlet. The syringe<br \/>\nby the windowsill &#8212; I couldn\u2019t bear<br \/>\nto ask. He was sober, he said<br \/>\nhe was sober. Maybe an explanation,<br \/>\nlike insulin, maybe not.<br \/>\nMostly I didn\u2019t want a reason<br \/>\nto stop touching him. Wanted<br \/>\nmy legs pinned back till<br \/>\nhamstrings yowled, everything<br \/>\nI could open opened and his.<br \/>\nI don\u2019t know who I am in this city,<br \/>\nthis South. Where do my muscles end?<br \/>\nDoes the ground begin with aching?<br \/>\nI never stop walking. I am always leaving<br \/>\nmyself in bed, in a hotel room<br \/>\nI never pay for or never stop<br \/>\npaying for. I am always a debtor,<br \/>\npenniless at the feet of love&#8217;s sovereign<br \/>\nthrone. I show him my good and he takes. <\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/archives\/12804\"><\/p>\n<h6>Stevie Edwards<\/h6>\n<p><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I\u2019m not sure if I have any hands when I am alone, unheld. I don\u2019t want to say what I\u2019ve done lately to feel myself: the man with the chemical peel whose face fell off in chunks all over me the first time we fucked. The mini-mansion I called Grey Gardens, knowing he didn\u2019t watch [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":647,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[48],"tags":[25],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Jypy-3l7","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12841"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/647"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12841"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12841\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13045,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12841\/revisions\/13045"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12841"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12841"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12841"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}