Βγήκα έξω και κοίταγα τον Πειραιά από μακρια και σκεφτόμουν πως την τελευταία φορά που ταξίδεψα με πλοίο μόνη μου προς αυτή την κατεύθυνση, εσύ με περίμενες στο λιμάνι.
Και σκεφτόμουν πως δε θα ξαναδεις αυτό τον αφρό και αυτά τα κύματα και αυτούς τους ηλίθιους γλάρους και δε θα ξαναγελάσεις και δε θα ξαναπεις “καλά είμαι, καλά είμαι Μαρτζ” και ήθελα να πεθάνω κι εγώ.
Σ’αγαπώ. Πά τα σε αγαπούσα. Γιατί ήσουν ξεχωριστός και γιατί ήσουν εσύ.
i’m sending you a postcard,
walking from the port to the inner land
this big scary house
still stands there
a horror film
travel gum and xanax
my skinny legs could use the sun
don’t forget to bring a towel
g told me on the phone
i should have sent it to hell long ago
see what good it did her
good natured bourgeois girls get their way-
3 cuts, some scratches,
see what good it did me
(honestly i can’t remember most of that night and i’m not much of a drinker anymore,
something is terribly wrong with me)
[we laughed and laughed over this one photograph for hours
seriously, what were you thinking]
so, i’m dying.
it started on the inside.
you let your kind know-
it’s not all unicorns and candyfloss and pink pills.
hey it’s me
i guess you don’t care anymore
but i terribly miss you
tried to turn on the tv earlier
boiled some water
served me a cup of tea
i hate tea
wandered around the appartment
everywhere, they come out of my duvet in dozens,
i should stitch that
opened up my book, page 80
“at that moment i knew he had perceived the part of me that is half-child, the part of me that likes to be amazed, to be taught, to be guided”
i should be doing some work instead.
i stopped to get a pack of cigarettes
just before work
the paper said you’d gone awol
where are you
i tried calling you some months ago
right after dad came to visit
you said you didn’t want to see me
you didn’t want anyone to see you like this
i tried calling you tonight
i only wanted to tell you
that i don’t hate you anymore and
i never really did
you were right
i was naive and i was always better than i thought i was
though did i have the stomach to become successful? no, i did not
did i have the looks? nope. sure i was witty, so what.
nobody loves a whiner
tough love, g
the kind that kids don’t appreciate
you were like a god to me
cruel and unloving that is
pick up the phone maybe?
there’s not much time left
it’s on days like this
i think about it more
my swollen face
the cactus view from my window
i received one phone call half an hour ago
haven’t made up my mind yet
neither have you
white turns dark blue
of any emotion
absence of truth
double the trouble.
you end it.