Cookies in the Bathroom

“This is how I got lost in the wild.”

Slowly, then suddenly. Not succumbing to be anyone’s goddamn monkey, gradually then quickly. The squealers hiding inside the mind, swine of descent, rapid and racing it happened, inside my human body. So disgusting. To be the motorcycle, the bucking bull, the bench on which she sets her truth on display. To be the pen, the guitar, the brush by which she feels said truth. Wandering in a metropolis within four walls, no windows, it happened. Transient in desolution, I couldn’t find a bus ticket, I had no destination, no home and no desire. Had nothing but faith in nothing.

I found a bedazzler at a garage sale, it was covered in grease and glitter. Memories not recycled, lost forever, in my loathsome, jeweled reality. It happened when I ordered gummy bears and a knife. Trauma was not my ultimate killer, but a creator with no reins. No intimacy, just bodily reflexes. Zoom in on my empty wallet, closer. Closer. Crescendo as I tie my hair to the bars of captivity. Fade to red, the lying shaded lips of those in my reach. Kiss the bartender thrice, it happened so that I could taste the Jameson and compunction. Bam.

With a wired jaw and manicured fuck you finger, it happened on a tiled light show. Where was I? Bangkok, Dubai, Melbourne, London, Toronto, Underland or the swamps of sadness? Was there any distinction? I might miss someone, cupid squeezed my ass in the murky rentals of truckers and thieves. Plan B involved some heavy touching, ya. As I would step out into the bright sunlight, nothing gold was visible, man that was a drag. I was an asshole. I was one of the guys. It happened vaguely then clearly. When she cums, she covers her face. I wasn’t real, I was in rehearsal. To be anybody’s baby doll, stuck in a corner, it happened animalistically.

I couldn’t hear the rock n’ roll, the drums faded with every pop, every extended release. Six whole years her sticks lay dormant. Life for all it’s anguish, was mine. She put her drinks up and packed away her palette. So it happened. Pink elephants and purple lemonade dissolved from the internal playroom, allowing a tango in the flaming fallacies. Searching for that something final by the name of life, it happened on an edge, in a field and whilst engorging on noodle salad. Drifting smoothly then roughly, more silence, I was standing on a precipice, ice cold water to catch me.

Never saying die, never hearing live, it happened. Deep into that darkness I pondered, who had left cookies in the bath, keys in the fridge and make up in the garage for me to find? Who put ink on my person along with holes in my tongue and tits? Cloudy with a chance of ass. Who were these wrecked up friends of mine, spilling spaghetti on the carpet, smoking my butts and snorting my bullshit? Who was this person inside of me? It happened with humor, with the jokes and vulgarity I had built in angst, after all the boys and girls that I’d been through. It happened because I was altered from compliance, dancing in darkness, running from the monsters I might’ve fucked but couldn’t recollect. Like my first outdoor picnic, I had no memory of it.

It happened as I remembered the time I spilled the cup of apple juice, the time I pretended to sleep and the time I remained motionless, praying to be turned into a bird. I could fly far, far far away from there, in those moments I chemically allowed the wind to find my face. When I let the me that only I can see surface in a song, a word, a sketch or a thought, it breaths. It follows. I was lost in the wild trenches with a faction refuting silence. A little serving to start, then all at once, it is happening. Lost in the wild and you wanna know why I’m mad. Ha. Life for all its anguish, is still mine.

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