everytime i get the apartment to myself

photo: kiyong jumli



I don't really know how I got here but here I am
drowning in pointless pussy.


by Kristine Kaye Antonio

I seem to be having a hard time writing at the moment. It could be because I haven't been drinking for a while now. I'm on medication for my tonsilitis and I just don't think it's a good idea to mix antibiotics with alcohol. So here I am forcing words out of my head before I run out of excuses. For the entire week I could not construct anything. Not even a goddamn predicate. I need pot. I haven't smoked the green substance since April and for some reason I am not looking forward to be reunited with it either. Everytime I get the apartment alone to myself, I drink. These days, I prefer to get inebriated by myself. Somehow getting inside my head is more interesting than drinking with my drinking-friends and listen to their worthless, banal monologues. Theirs is trivial compared to my mine.

I don't remember the exact moment how everything changed, I just know it did. In the land of lotus eaters, time plays tricks on you. One moment you are dreaming, the next your dreams have become your reality. I don't really know how I got here but here I am drowning in pointless pussy. I exiled myself leaving behind an engagement I wanted to nurture. Then I flashed forward and now I break mainly because I cannot imagine you speaking of me with some affection and longing. But how can you now? Your lover is a child in an adult's body, caring for nothing and everything at the same time. Noble in thought, weak in heart.