Third Night on Viibryd Without Eating First
Laughlin Cole
Hallucinated a flaming forest as if lucid dreaming around 9 p.m. Shit myself. Barfed orange slushy chunks.
Hallucinated a flaming forest as if lucid dreaming around 9 p.m. Shit myself. Barfed orange slushy chunks.
don’t say the truth
it’s presumptuous and tastes like an airhead
I blast the airhorn before the lump on the floor knows what’s going on.
My wife watched me walk headfirst into a mirror.
Now there is a skeleton outside my window. And skeletons on all the dating app profiles.
The face in my mirror keeps getting older –
Into the face of the man who beat me
I reminded myself that I spent just as many lonely afternoons in the State Library of Victoria with a pile of international Vogues as I did at a Goodwill in the Valley.
I thought maybe I would learn something about how to be less judgemental, or something.
A few minutes later I was presented with a tall, condensation-covered glass, containing an opaque, dark-green liquid that looked like it had been skimmed off the surface of a stagnant pond. I took a tentative sip.
Every winter, the Jersey Shore freezes into an old car in the driveway, tarped and bricked until May.
How they stabbed me and got away with it!
I guess my approach is not to take myself too seriously, which sounds kind of dumb and obvious, and just to write the sort of book I most like to read, which is usually something heavy but also light on its feet, fast-paced and horny, and generally not too full of itself.
He came down my throat, I slurped it all up.
I didn’t want to write this essay, but I know somebody will publish it and feel good about themselves for platforming a disabled voice.
Our lovemaking is a demilitarized zone.
Shit, is this what the Zoom room people mean when they say fantasy addict?
This final image crushed me. It was a forewarning of what identity destruction can lead to if we
don’t truly understand ourselves to begin with.
I am just a village idiot.
“You’re dirty,” you said to me, “I don’t kiss you because I think about how many dicks must’ve been in your mouth."
Everything tended to with love bears fruit they told me.
Now I don’t care anymore. I’m writing posthumously; I’m invisible now – like an “aging actress”!
I was sobbing too loud for the men’s room and I was in no shape to explain myself so I settled on the supply closet next to it. After a couple minutes of moping I got a BBM (we had to have Blackberries then, for whatever reason) from Jarrett. “Were fuck are you bro?”