THE LOST TAPES Vol.8

   “SURPRISE!”
was chanted, but a quick murmur of disappointment echoed right after they saw me.
   “You fucking cunt, why are you so late?” Jonas asked.
   “Late for what? What party is this?” I question, to which the boss replies: “Did you not read any of my e-mails, ‘nastasia? You really are a cunt...”
   “Sure, but what is this party for?”
   “It’s the surprise party YOU helped organize weeks ago...”

***

   Bus full of high schoolers standing
   Free sit next to the old man
   He’s so happy for having someone to talk to
   Kids can be disgusting, man. 

***

   3AM at the local Walmart
   Resounding memory of tipsy, clean milky white tits
   The sober version is not the same, it has too many scars 

***

   Air conditioning riddled with masculinity
   Dominating my body like only God can do.
   Court or public television? 

***

   Cereal bars, deodorant, books,
   Ultra smooth 3$ black pencils, papers from last year;
   A small canvas that was on sale, a can of sardines,
   Seafood Cup Noodles, the bus pass,
   A stolen wallet, a dirty bar of soap, toothpicks,
   The dream of a lipstick, and a broken cellphone that never found its way to the trash.
   Backpack.

***

   Looking down, hit the lamppost
   Stone cold golems walk by, a butterfly lends me a hand
   “Bottoms up, girl!”

***

   To exist
   To push the cable to the amp
   To pull the arrow to the string
   To live happily shortly after 

***

Snake-people calling me friend
When was the last time I ate at your table? 

***

   Homeless shelter tomfoolery
   Laughs and gaffs and goofs
   Goulash and beer for everyone 

***

   Drippy dripping ceiling
   Never stop dripping, never stop molding
   So humid I can’t breath, dead at 21 

***

   Dirty Converse shoes
   Same old jeans and an umbrella
   Jumping up and down in rain puddles
   Not a care in the the world until I notice the passerby avoiding me 

***

[Red Skies’ alternate ending]

   [...]
   Door closed, I’m out
   Trying to escape but the stairs hold me back and I sit down and cry.
   What the fuck is wrong with me, for Christ’s sake?
   I want out but from where? How? Why exactly?
   What is so damn bad that I can’t just live my life properly?
   How do I even get home?
   How do I even go down the stairs?
   How do I move my body and/or give any sense to my capabilities
to walk, to think, to externally voice my pain even in a whisper even to myself but I just cry in silence, trying to muffle my pain, muzzle my brain up
   And once again she comes and sits beside me with an arm around my shoulders and waits for the right moment to speak.
   “Is it something I said?” She asks sincerely, but how do I respond to that? “Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it.”
   “Shut up,” I respond, “what are you doing awake anyway?”
   “You weren’t there... I was worried.”
   “I’m not your wife,” I get up. “Go back to bed, I’m going home.” 

   It wasn’t me going down the stairs. I could see myself going down the stairs, I was still sat there when the bell rang to signal my exit, when the tears came and I wanted to turn around and say I’m sorry. I was still there, her arm around me; tough girl holding back the tears.