Came to here, my Mykonos. 6pm every Friday my taxi rolls up to Sathorn Soi 1. Dusk sets as I throw my passport on the counter. Muffle a name out of earshot. You still know me as Aydyn, 12 tete-a-tetes later.  Hiding, you’re clutching your bag with replacement underwear, powder and a toothbrush over your head.  Dim in here, no one can see you. Or will think you’re the whore you’re not. I’ve never seen your face in sunlight. Its contours, your age. Mysteries to me. One time the hall light shone brighter. New lightbulbs or some shit. And I realized you were 10 years older than I thought. Speckles of gray at your temples. Let’s not make this real.

And you will go to Mykonos
With a vision of a gentle coast
And a sun to maybe dissipate
Shadows of the mess you made

Can’t be bothered with inconsistencies, between what I see and what the shape of your ass shows me.  Every time I climb the stairs after you, I make my way over the bones of men that gave up. Just dropped, shed their skeleton between floors. This is not a place to live without illusions. My Mykonos, my escape. Regular room 6E. With the already soiled sheets, forlorn faucet. Can’t care. I’ve come to run my hands down the gentle coasts of your body, you the gentle ghost of mine.  I don’t need sunlight. Ours is a love not meant to dissipate the shadows I made.

We get high.  Get so high, my humanity splashes out my fingertips. Sit on the bathroom counter. Spotlights shine on my chest hair. In the mirror, highlights let shadows leak out irises a thousand men have suffocated in. While trying to find the end of the ravine my heart treads water in. Stare back at the mirror, disappearing lines. Disappearing lines of my face. my body. Dismantling of my pupils, they grow so big they evolve past me. Shoot out legs and crawl onto the floor. Eyelashes float out my head. Wrap me in a fluttering embrace. Carry me like wings to our aerial love.  

Sail on the rush over to the bed. And I lay back, suddenly finding breathing secondary to living. For a few seconds I lose the ability to fuck myself up, even as I get fucked up. Your head hits the pillow, breathing heavy and shallow. You got carried away, too. You’re gonna get carried away with me, into my darkness. I’m sorry.

At the end of the day its alright
Gonna pull it together
Change my old ways
Take a piece of the future

We say but a few words, before our clothes are off. You don’t speak much English. Enough to direct me. I don’t speak much Thai. Enough to know if I’m in danger. Here in the aerial love, we can get by. Just missing each other. The planes of our existence. Words just ground us, chastise a piece of the future we’re not worried about having. Everytime I touch you, I take bits of me and throw them on the floor. Lose my legs to up over my head, to behind the bedframe. Lost forever. I don’t care if I walk out of here. In one piece. In any pieces.

Sometimes you let me pop my death fantasies into the air. Let them soak into your hazy cloud mind, like inescapable smog. Words aplenty, you get the gist of them. Your lips reach for my neck and bump into a layabout H. All the letters hang out in the air like lines of a story. Like the next line both you and I do.

You’ve been the kindest to me. Out of everyone I’ve met. Letting me sit here and suffer. No pithy patronizing as you putter your way through a blowjob. An attempt to make you feel like it’s ok to fuck a ghost heart. Your way different, not of indifference. Your cock led me to true north. To the beaches of your gentle coasts, with sand made of my ground skin. And you let me sit placid, as still waters give way to tidal waves. I stare at them full-faced, full throated dead spirit. Ready for them to wash me away. You saw it all, decided I wasn’t worth saving. You know I need to drown. So you keep fucking me. Fucking my heart. Until it’s all over. All over the hotel room.

We take breaks, between rounds. I see you writhing on the bed. Surveying, seeing all my heart splattered on the walls. All my blood, the words I said. Trickling down plaster, unashamed. I sit on the porch, heartless. Harmless. Pupils fixed and dilated on the Bangkok skyline. The never ending cascade of towers, as far as you can lose your sight into. I think I’m happy to be lost, interminably. Lost from all the people at home. People who spend no time trying to know me. Or why my arm hairs dance psychotically in the wind, determining my direction. They think me arrogant. All the shades of self-centered. Brandishing me with an A for awful human being.

But you can’t be egotistical, when all I want is your cock to explode what’s left of my shattered ego. So I float my ghost heart back to the bed. Wrap my ghost legs round yours. Put my phantasmal lips on that worldly mouth and breathe what’s left of my spirit into you. Begin Round 3. KO Round.

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