Redacted and I go for night drives, we like to get lost, find streets we've never been down. It's too small here, we can never stay lost for long, we're always ending up at the prison gates.
We have illegal fires on the beach in the summer, drink pink wine and sailor jerry’s, roast marshmallows. Redacted’s boyfriend punched a whole in their wall, but she tries to forget that that happened and have a good night. I carry a warm rock home in my pocket, keep it on my windowsill to remember.
Went dancing with redacted, met a guy from the band at the bar, he bought us tequila shots. Went to the afterparty at a club with carpets on the floor. Danced on the platforms until closing, a fight broke out as we all left the club, but the cops were already waiting in the parking lot.
Was feeling lonely, called a friend to go on a night drive. Blew bubbles in the Wal-Mart parking lot, covered his head in butterfly clips, woke up with pink hair.
We drank Wiser's in a bush, got wasted at an event for families. Helped a girl I just met pee in the tall grass, gave her a bus ticket to get home. Left just as the cops showed up.
Didn’t sleep all summer, laid in bed every night building houses in my head, wishing it was just a few degrees cooler.
I got drunk drinking triple sec straight from the bottle, walked to the park without my shoes on, lost my phone in the dark. Redacted sat with me as I vomited, listened to .38 Special, held my hair.
I met a boy in the hallway. I asked him where he came from, he said he crawled out of my VCR. I spent the weekend with him, I told him all my secrets. We slept next to each other in my tiny twin bed, my arms went numb, but I didn’t mind.
Went to a party. My love and I downed a bottle of wine in record time, seven minutes. Swung each other around the room. I think redacted was there, but I don't remember. When we got home he kept falling into my closet, couldn’t stand up right, but he told me he was fine.
My love and I like to drive, escape the city for a while. We found a little seaside ghost town, wandered the houses all day. They say the dam could break any day, flood the town, so they all had to leave. But the houses here feel real, they're grounded, not a burning dayglow. We’ve decided to stay here, start over, risk the rupture of the dam. My room is filled with coffee cups anyways, it’s easier this way.
We hide out in the blue house, the outside world is too bright. I sweep up the broken glass and tape plastic to the window frames, my love tames the yard, the pastoral fantasy. We drink coffee by the ocean every morning, watch the waves hit the sand. We make this place our home.
I dream there's a man who lives in the forest. He feeds people to his bees, says it makes the honey better.
My love won’t sleep, won’t take his pills. He sits on the floor of our room and plays guitar all day, all night. We don’t talk anymore. He is trying to push me away, but I am intent. If I do the right things, maybe he will come back to reality, put away his guitar, notice me again.
I dream I am driving home. There is a car crash on the road. I drive by slowly, can’t take my eyes off of it, until suddenly, I crash my own car.
My love is more diffuse than usual. I can walk right through him, feel his static tingle my organs. He is dissolving like pills under my tongue, I don’t know how to stop it.
My love has evaporated, I don’t know where he went. He has unmade the home we built and I am all alone. The vines are coming through the windows, crawling up the walls. I wish I could just dissipate like he does, become only particles of light and sound, but I am corporeal and confined to this form.
I wander the empty houses looking for him, but I know he’s gone. I check my VCR, but there is no sign of him. It’s as if he was never here, all that’s left is his guitar. I can hear the dam cracking, it keeps me up at night.
I dreamt he came back, that he told me he still loved me. That we got a studio apartment in Chinatown, slept on a mattress on the floor. But that’s not real, and I’m still here alone. He’s ruined my favourite songs, I have to start over. I’m always starting over.
Maybe one day I’ll awake refreshed. Make pancakes for breakfast, eat fresh mangos. Put clean sheets on the bed. Take a bath, apply lotion, and wash my face with soap. But I’m not there yet, I still need redacted to stroke my hair, tell me that I'm okay. He stole my pills and my favourite baseball cap. I’ll sell his guitar to buy a box of wine. Slowly my memory of him will fade.
