Returning home drunk, I collapse on my bed and listen to Aphex Twin. Lighting a smoke and switching on my laptop, someone’s sent me of a video showing the aftermath of some woman having her face chewed off by a dog. Or it could be that she was high on bath salts and sliced it off with a shard of glass. Or maybe a razor. It doesn’t matter. She’s just sat there while the cameraman films in silence like it’s no big deal. She’s just two eyes and blood n’ muscle. Two eyes with no eyelids. It makes me wince, but then I think of Estelle’s body and how it shone just inches away from my hands. As the poor woman sits there in agony, I abuse myself knowing the real thing is well within my grasp, but I’ve got an irregular head and the principles I abide by are murky at best. Everyone should read Bukowski is at the top, but the rest shift and change like the ebb and flow of the seas. To think of all those octopuses, and how lonely it must be to swim the depths of the Mariana Trench. Closing my eyes, the room spins leaving me on the brink of a panic attack, so I just sit there allowing the universe to flow through every molecule. My atoms work best drowning in a mixture of wine and beer, so when I’m feeling lucky, I go for broke and drink until I can’t feel my face. Sometimes, I remember how she felt beneath me drenched in sweat and ready to say yes. I remember her hopes and dreams and how she cried herself to sleep when they always seemed to escape her. When viewed from afar, life is a curious affair. You can alter the truth with a photograph, and you can write about things that never happened, but to see someone cry in your arms speaks only of the truth. It renders me numb, and even though I want no part of it, it keeps on happening. It’s a bad joke, just like the rest of my life. Swallowing a mouthful of wine, I see spaceships crashing into Jupiter and genocide in the time it takes to peel an apple. Devoured by a storm they say has been raging for centuries, she clings so much that it’s suffocating, but it’s only what I deserve. With teeth marks on my arms, I hold her down and tell her what happens next. And what’s next is more curious by far.