217 days

without speaking

or seeing each other

and suddenly she shows up

knocks on his door and says,

“Hey, we’re still together, right?

Still a couple?”

He didn’t answer,

just ushered her in

through a curtain of smoke

and moldy smells.

His small apartment

looked more like a cave

than ever before.

The walls were dark and irregular

with buildup of grime.

The cockroaches were long dead,

poisoned with cigarette smoke

and ashes

26 years her senior,

he was a modern caveman

Still lived in a cold, dark,

and gross cave,

but he had a laptop

and internet connection.

The screen

was the only thing

alive in the cave.

It showed a compilation

of short videos

featuring brutal executions

from all around the world.

“So how have you been?”

she asked.

His reply was a grunt

as his gnarled hand

reached into his breast pocket

and fished out the pack

of cigarettes and a lighter.

He placed one between

his lips and lit it

and then offered her one.

She took it

and as she stretched

her hand for it

a neat row of self-inflicted scars

shone from her wrist to elbow

“I take it you still haven’t

managed to publish

your writings,” she said.

It drew another

grunt from him,

a louder one

this time.

“So nothing’s changed

in all this time,”

she continued.

“You didn’t make it,

I didn’t make it,

and the world made it

without us.”

Another grunt from him.

He sat down at the desk

and paused the gore videos

that ran with black metal music

playing in the background.

The image that froze onscreen

portrayed a naked man

on his knees, hands tied

behind his back,

while a chainsaw was about

to dig into his belly.

“I was thinking,” she continued,

“you know how people make

those silly promises

that sound something like,

’if we don’t find partners

by the time we’re so and so years

old we marry each other’?

Well, I was thinking,

what if we make a promise

just like that?

Only, not about marrying

each other.

Rather, if in two years’ time

we don’t make it.

That is, if you don’t get published

as a writer and I still can’t

find a good man to marry…

we suicide together.

What do you say?”

Puffing on his cigarette,

he watched her,

studied her from head

to toe and back,

and after another grunt

and a much needed clearing

of his throat he said,

“Aren’t we already dead?

What’s the point of

suicide now?”

They were both silent

for a long while

and then she said,

“Did I tell you about

the time I aborted

your child?”

He shook his head.

“Pretty sure it wasn’t mine.”

“It was yours,” she said.

He dismissed her

with another grunt

and a slight shake of his head.

Then they smoked

in silence and finished

the whole pack,

letting the ashes fall

straight to the floor

where they joined a gray desert.

He resumed the gore videos

but turned down the volume.

“Some days ago

I slept with a guy

only so I could use his computer

to check out stories of yours

on the internet,”

she said eventually.

“Aside from three or four

very short ones

there was nothing new.

Why did you stop posting?”

“I stopped writing,” he said.

“Oh…”

She came behind him

and they both watched

some poor homeless man

being held down

by a gang of teenagers

as two of them used a brick

to hammer a long screwdriver

up one of his nostrils.

He turned the volume lower.

“Well, I haven’t stopped looking

for a good man,” she said.

“I just hadn’t found one yet.

I thought that maybe if we make

that two-year promise…

maybe it’ll motivate us both,

but I see you’ve already given up.

You are already dead,

aren’t you?

I’m speaking to a ghost.”

He grunted

and lit another cigarette

from a new pack

and offered her another.

They watched gore videos

for the rest of the night

and smoked.

At some point

she said that she

had a loose tooth

and fiddled with it until it

came out of the socket.

There was no blood

and no pain.

She placed it on the desk

and he silently

took it and put it

into his breast pocket

with the pack of cigarettes.

In the morning,

she was ready to leave.

She borrowed

fourteen dollars

and two cigarettes

and stopped by

the corner store

to buy razor blades.

The cashier wasn’t any

more alive than herself

and the modern caveman

she’d left behind

for the final time.

“Say, you wanna marry

in the near future?” she asked

from across the counter.

The cashier just replied

with a grunt.

///////

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the last time they

saw him

happy

was when he told them about

that weird dream

he had

in which wine

poured from the tap in

his kitchen

and that

was it

he had nothing else

in life to

be happy about

They didn’t need to

ask his

profession

Somehow they

all knew

he was a

poet

***

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she never finished college

but she was a pill expert

and took pride in it

"Here, this one'll make you rock

against your will. You'd need some."

"Not me," I said

"You afraid?"

"Yes."

"Hahahahaaa, afraid o' some pills, boy?

D' you know what being afraid of

this stuff's called around here?"

"I don't know what's called around here

I'll call it wisdom where I'm at. No

pills for me, thanks."

"Wow, you're such a pussy, ain't ya?

Oh, well that's too bad, I guess.

Would've been fun to rock the bed tonight

but I ain't lookin' for no pussy. I wanna give that."

She gave it to one of my friends along with

some sketchy looking pills

and from that night on they were a couple

of some sorts for a little over a month

And when she took the right pills

she talked in the wrong ways

In her sleep

to the walls

to her cat

to her left foot, but whispering

so the right won't hear

And when she was on pills she would have

her new boyfriend hold her phone

and not allow her to answer if her dad called

Her dad didn't call too often but

somehow managed to call when she was on pills

He just wanted to check how college's going

not knowing she'd quit

or was expelled

months ago

"Ah, my daddy would so kill me

if he found out. Like, yeah, he'd kill me as fuck!

But that's all right. I'm all right.

I know this dude who prints 'em, makes 'em

look like the real thing.

Just give 'im the ID an' cash

and you're good. I'll be good."

Well, I don't know

I guess wisdom comes in many, many forms

that friend of mine she hooked up

with considered it wise to

one day just tell her father the truth

The phone rang for the fourth time

and she was lying in bed

naked with froth about her lips

and eyes staring up into her skull

probably looking for salvation or something

He answered and introduced himself to her father

and told him everything,

even switched to video call to show the man his daughter

He thought he'd save her life this way

Sacrifice the relationship to save your partner's life

I guess that's wise

She went into rehab, I heard

and, what do you know, a few years later

she's married and pregnant

I wonder how wise her husband is...

***

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she hadn’t been his wife

because her religious family would never

allow their sweet treasure

to marry a lowlife like him

But she had been his girlfriend because

she needed to rebel

against her family somehow

But very little of that mattered now

She was no longer among

the living

and it was her own choice

Enforced by two fistfuls of pills

and half a bottle of 65% proof vodka

Her family was beginning

to forget her

now

Suicide was something not even Jesus could

forgive

“I’m stronger than Jesus himself then!”

he shouted in the

hand mirror she left behind

at his place. “I forgive you! And I

still love you.”

He smashed the hand mirror against the wall

and knelt amongst the

shards

They watched him from below

with crimson eyes

Eyes that reminded him of hers when she was

crying in his arms,

talking endlessly about her stupid family who

won’t take mental issues like depression

and anxiety seriously. They said

it was but a phase

and she just needed to grow up

and pray some more. Also, her lowlife

boyfriend needed to go

If only that last

rule wouldn’t have been in place…

She would’ve been here now,

he knew

He reached for the

largest shard,

not breaking contact with the crimson eyes,

and stabbed it deep into

the wrist of his left hand

“Haha,” he said, still looking

at the eyes. “Just like when you took

bathroom breaks from the sermon to video-call me. I… still love you, babe…”

***

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The world was growing colder

because the weather

was akin

to people’s hearts,

he was told

in a dream

The people had denied him

the world

and he was left with the backstreet

dumpster

And he had to share the

backstreet dumpster with the dogs

Or rather the dogs had to share

it with him

Regardless,

they agreed

and at least this corner of

the world

was a little warmer

***

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FREE EBOOK:

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To work at the peak

of the desert heat

The adults told him he’d need

an injection for that

and the man dressed in white

grabbed his arm and lifted it

and stung him with the needle in the shoulder

and injected the serum

It took away all doubt

from his mind

and all weariness from his heart

and limbs

He was ready

“Good boy,” the adults said

and patted him on the back

They gave him an assault riffle,

one he’d held and used

before for practice,

and sent him out of camp

and towards the enemy soldiers

It’ll be fine

***

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sunny day outside

streets full

of people seeking water

and cold beers

overcast day inside

the cold, irregular walls

of the basement

in the abandoned building

The clouds are alive

and very annoying

She slaps his forehead

with a sloppy hand

soaked in vomit

“Ouch!” he screams

And she says, “I can’t stand

these fucking

fruit flies. Why must

they follow everywhere we go?”

He turns around

on the wool blanket and

shoves away a few empty bottles

of cheap wine

and

drops his head onto

her naked lap. “Because, baby, we’re

putrid. You and I, we’re both

dead on the inside

and out. And the fruit flies

love the smell

and taste of our bodies. Especially

when they come

together and sweat a lot.”

His hand grabs at

her upper thigh

and the fingers

tap playfully along the

piano-key-like cut marks

that adorn it

from crotch to knee

She tries to squash another

fruit fly

on his back

fails

gives up

drifts into sobs

and cries

“Noo, don’t cry,” he whispers

“Darling,” she says through

sour tears that

get immediately assaulted by

the fruit flies, “are we

really dead?”

“Yeah,” he says after

two full minutes

of struggling to open his eyes.

“Dead to them all

who walk outside in the warm

sun and go to jobs

to feed families, and dead

to our own families. And

to God. We’re dead, alright.”

She wails and

moves her vomit-soaked

hand before her face

to chase away

the fruit flies

achieves the opposite

effect

wails some more

looks around for

her favorite razor blade

doesn’t find it

wails some more

grabs a bottle and swings

it against the wall

behind her back

but not strong enough

to break

just drops it

And she wails some more

until

he grabs her hand and

holds it against his

face and

starts sucking on her fingers

It tastes not very

different from

the wine they drank

so he keeps sucking

and tells her, “Don’t worry.”

“What?” she asks

“Don’t worry, I said. Even if

we’re dead, at least

we’re dead together. And it’s

a thousand billion times

better than

being alive and apart. We’re still

better off than those

walking outside in the warm sun.

Those fools stay together

till death does ’em apart. Pathetic.

We’re staying together in

death itself, dear. Our love

is eternal!

We got each other

and our cool grave

and our thousands of flying children

here roaming about

and the sweet nectar of each

other’s bodies. What else

could one ask for in life

or in death?”

“Aw, you sweet talking

failure of a poet,

come and kiss me!”

He did

and not even the

vomit or the

coughing of blood could

break their lips apart

and the

fruit flies

joined in

and outside people still

walked in

the warm sun

oblivious of what true love

looked like

***

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she looks up at me with

eyes hidden, almost locked,

behind

thick bars of hair

that reaches all the way to

her small nose

Hair discolored like

dry straw,

second in paleness only

to her ghostly face

She doesn’t stare too much

because there

are other things to see

in the room

She moves

on. Not

knowing that I also stared

at her. Into her soul

I’ve spotted an unquenched

cry there

The easiest to

recognize is the cry of loss

and that’s what I saw there

paired with

the cry of want

She wants to get away

from here

Far, far away. She wants to go

and never stop. Wants

to travel into

forever

and I’d like to

take her

there

But alas,

I am stuck here onto

this wall

frozen in time

I'm a static

painting

And my cold

words

void of any vibration

will never reach her

I have to make my peace

with it. Yeah, some

people just don’t read

poetry. And even if

they do, what are the chances

they’d read mine?

Wow, what a fool I can be at times

But, well, at least

I have my dreams

and myself to laugh at

You don’t need much else

in eternity

***

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A lone ant

crawled into his hair and went across

his forehead to

his eyelid

He woke up

Sand all about him and wood above

But this was so far

from hell

Hell was a thing of the past now

Now he had her by

his side

She was still sleeping

in her rugged sleeping bag

For the past few days

they slept under the cabin

to avoid being ambushed inside

He knew she wouldn’t be by his

side

for long. The infection in her

mouth was really getting out of control

putting her one outrageous fever

away from death

This was the world today

A warm wasteland full of predators

and no medical help of

any kind. Kill or be killed. Law of

the jungle. And so on

He liked to believe he

adapted

Too many didn’t

His luck stood in not having that much of

a fine life before the disaster

In fact

life was actually better now

in some aspects

For one

he had a cute companion by his side

A man really doesn't need

much to cling to life

She awakened a few minutes later

from another one of her fever dreams

All sweaty

Breathing heavy

Reaching out for his hand

“Do I smell?” she asked

“What?”

“I said, do I smell?”

“Well, yeah, we both do. Just look at…

where we are. How we are. But hey,

one thing you can be sure of, I

really, really don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

“More than sure.”

“Good. Then hold me.”

He moved closer and circled her with his

arms. Buried his head in

her hair. “We can go inside. No one

came tonight either. It’s safe.”

“No,” she said. “Hold me for a bit longer.

This night… I had the worst of

them. Worst nightmare. A boat came

here on the beach. With saviors. They weren’t

even pirates. But actually good people.

They rescued us.

And among them… there was another woman.

A healthy, pretty one.

And the two of you fell in love. And I

lost you. And I killed myself. Threw

myself over the board. And drowned. My lungs

were burning.”

“Wow,” he said. “What a silly dream.”

“It felt so real.”

“You think I’d leave you for another woman

just because she’s healthy and pretty? After

all we’ve gone through?”

“Look,” she said, “my husband left me for

another woman

even before my gums and tongue started to

swell and rot. When I was still

healthy and… somewhat pretty.”

“Well… I’m not your husband.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I… shouldn’t have brought him

into the discussion. And you’re right. You

are… the most… You’re all I’m still

alive for, really. And I know

I won’t be alive for long.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he said

“It’s true. That’s why… I want you to know

that these past days…

I’ve been praying. For God not to send

us any rescuers. I prayed not to be

found by any other humans. I hate all other

humans besides you. I know it’s incredibly

selfish of me but… We’ve enough

provisions here to

survive… You know, in my case, for the rest

of my life. It’s all a matter of

days, really. I want these last days to be

spent with you alone.”

They made love there in the

dirty sand

and he didn’t mind covering that rotting

mouth with his

By the time she died

her belly

was quite swollen

And he made his peace

with the fact that he’ll never get

over it

***

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They will never finish the building

It would stay in its skeletal form

forever

because the government is

corrupt

but then

they all are

so it wasn’t the grandest

tragedy of the world

It was a fun place for

the kids

A place where they pretended to be

monkeys and did parkour

and whatnot

A place where tight friendships

and love were to

be discovered

and kept hidden in the various

incomplete rooms

and under unfinished stairs

The unfinished building was the

wonderland of a truly magical childhood

And it was still unfinished by

the time childhood ended

It’s been twenty years

and her girlfriends kept asking

her why she wasn’t

dating or starting a family

She just shrugged. Said she didn’t

want to hurt any men

It was enough those twenty years

ago when she

told a boy that he had to

walk across the high ledge if he wanted her kiss

Poor kid was too dumb and love-struck

for his own good,

but his fall and death took her out of the

tomboy phase.

She no longer sought adventure

and thrill

twenty years...

And the building was

still unfinished

***

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