I have bad memories in this place. Well, actually they’re good memories, but that’s a secret between you and me. The last time I drank here I ended up walking down the street and punching out a window at the DMV. That glass had to be a quarter inch thick, Officer Kohlbeck said. Finally he respected me.
I’d sworn off the place, citing bad service and overpriced food,
You flick off your bathroom light, face dissolving slowly on the mirror’s tongue. Features melt to pale cut lozenges, dripping saliva. Flip the light back on -quick- before it swallows. In your hallway the walls sweat algae tinged condensation. Trace your hand along, feel it sting small cuts on the webbing between fingers. A voice on the phone tells you about a club you’ll be at later. Kitchen resplendent with a thousand splinters of light.
Omw to the park I thought getting there’s not gonna be the problem
But the getting back
And that was actually hella hard
On your way there it’s the onslaught of anxiety over whether
Or not you have to pee
But I was fine
So then it was the pain in my tendons on either sides of my knee otw back
It happened whenever I tried to rush
I had to slow down a lot
And trick myself into thinking it’s all in my head until I got back
It was Easter Sunday too