Tuesday, January 6, 2009


I know exactly how things will go. The reunion with Helga has played in my mind for months. It always ends the same: drunkenness, heartbreak, daemon screams, wild animal posturing. I hope for resolution--tears of love, not fucking tears of rage. A grown-up boy can dream, can't he?

I shan't kill Myoki, but I'll hit him very hard. I'll throw him out and with him the keys to his SUV. Fuck off to the the nearest motel, you Buddhist cock. Leave us alone with our beautiful vices.

My nerves are steady. I’ll take a single drink and gas up the car. I’ll listen to some lonely station as I drive towards the sunrise, towards Switzerland. I already see that crack on the horizon--that little slit of hope. Even if I fail, I'll see some interesting things--those worlds I long to occupy but which never let me in.


Anonymous said...

Nigel, your muses inspire my poetic mind!

Nigel Tewksbury said...

I did not give them permission to whore themselves out!

But thank-you. Just treat our muses well.