Six days. 14. 16. Hours a day of swimming in sheets. A sad-cerebrum banging against the bedframe. Fuck me. Fuck me. I want out. Shouting. My brain was always shouting. Cos I deserved it. Cos I’d strapped it to pillowcases. Ball-gagged all its bellicose ballyhooing. Cos it was me from the otherside of my life and all I was going to do was bash me for burning my life down. Blindfolded him. Told him there’d be a real beaut of a dude coming to bang him. Banged him over the head instead, slept. Don’t boo me. He, I got history.

Six days. Went to work, painted a smile on my non-humanity. Shuffled food around my plate. Didn’t eat anything. Couldn’t stomach me. Was having a hard time digesting so many regrets. Dripped my way out the door at 4:30, cos I didn’t have anywhere to go but pool myself on the floor of my shower. Swallowed the spit from my screams so I could make some semblance of a human who could make his way the 17 blocks to my hotel. Couldn’t stop crying, so I turned every road into a river of my fuck-ups. Drowned, drowned out everyone. Swam in the streets with no name, cos I didn’t want to say mine anymore. All sidewalks and skeletons doggy-paddling, every step punctuated by shredded toes that used to stomp war cries.

Six days. Came home, shot down seven bourbons. Chased it with a half litre of chocolate milk. Had to keep my protein, muscles up. Had to have the energy to crawl to the bathroom, piss. A real specimen of a man. Rawr.

hello, it’s me
i must’ve called a thousand times
it’s so typical of me to talk about myself
i’m sorry, i hope that you’re well
did you ever make it out of that town?

_______________

You did call, other-me. Me from the otherside. Hung up on you, all 175,000 times. Why you hanging around all these near-hundred months later? Thought I shot you as the Song Thaew sped up Sukumvhit in Pattaya. Ripped you apart in front of Reunification Palace in Ho Chi Minh City two years ago. Nailed you to your own cross on New Amsterdam in New York City. Jammed your fingers in the door as you clung to a taxi in rush hour Jakarta. All cos you strangled me six years ago first on First Hill in Seattle.

i’m in california, dreaming
about who we used to be
when we were younger and free
i’ve forgotten how it felt
before the world fell at our feet

Why do you still find breathing fun? Had a hefty volume of haranguing and hurt to say to you. A real War and Peace hanging out in the back of my throat on the chance I’d see you. Now I’m breezing past the graveyard I hope you’ll have a morphine martini in. Wouldn’t even make a Buzzfeed list for your obituary, fuckface.

i’m sorry, for everything that I’ve done
for breaking your heart

__________

Six years ago we split, I disassociated. An explosive bit of trauma tore me to shreds. Didn’t recover like I should’ve. Been drunken, blinded, bumbling down a broken road of badness ever since. Know that’s on me. But you fucking languished in the pool of dynamite sticks. Watched 8, 18, 880 go kaboom.. Laughed cos you were nervous, panicked. Forgot about flame retardant, decided to be retarded instead. Saw the lining of your, our heart line the diving board, laid about like a lout. Can’t just pick up a pericardium at Tesco-Lotus! And you wonder why I’ve been pissed all these years?

hello, can you hear me?
i was wondering if after all these years
you’d like to meet, to go over everything
they say that time’s supposed to heal ya
but I ain’t done much healing

You woke me up. All those incessant I’m sorrys. Got me out of my mind. Walked to 7/11 barefoot on Bangkok streets.
I don’t live nowhere nice. Needles. Used condoms. The dying invitations to heaven of sexpats litter these alleys. Handwave all the disease and dark hearts away. Had to hurry to stumble to have some Hong Thong whiskey in my hand. Saw myself in a stream of taxicab windows. Saw what I, you had become. Couldn’t handle it anymore. Sat down on the curb. Uncapped the bottle. Handed it to you. Gave you a fucking hug. Felt like it lasted a hundred months.
_________

hello, it’s me.

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