but hell was just a floor below
in the living room
There was a blazing fire
in the fireplace
and there were plenty of screams
coming from mother and father
They argued again
And from upstairs, locked in her
dim room, she knew that
the gnashing of teeth and the shattering
of glass would not be late
in echoing through the walls
They always liked to break glasses
and bottles in the fireplace
while arguing
The fireplace was full of
sparkling shards now
She still remembered the afternoon
her little cousin came to
visit with aunt and uncle and not knowing
any better he tried to pick
the sparkling treasure from the
cold ashes of the fireplace
and cut himself pretty
bad
But who knows,
perhaps there really was a treasure in
that fireplace
Whenever mom and dad left the house
she would stand before the
cold fireplace
and watch the sparkling ashes
like a starry night sky
and would start daydreaming
It worked for a while
but then she just had to reach higher
She had to reach to the stars
and remove the biggest she could find
and slice her wrists or ankles with it
The sight of her own blood
emerging from the shallow cut calmed her
down a great deal
And when mother and father were
in the house, arguing as usual and breaking
stuff
she had her scabs to scratch and peel off and
chew on
That also provided her with a
great sense of calm
But unfortunately mother and father
hadn’t been out in a long while
They’d have to get out
soon
because their dearest daughter had
started plucking her hair already
and that could turn into a problem. She could
end up looking less pretty than
she was with only
the cuts and scabs
the last time they
saw him
happy
was when he told them about
that weird dream
he had
in which wine
poured from the tap in
his kitchen
and that
was it
he had nothing else
in life to
be happy about
They didn’t need to
ask his
profession
Somehow they
all knew
he was a
poet
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there's been a collection of
rather
dark thoughts lately
and he was
studying it from the comfort
of his bed
The other day he found a good pillow
in the dumpster
and used it to cover the spot
on the mattress where the
rusty springs emerged
Now the bed was fine again
good enough for
daydreaming
After you've tried out all herbs
and powders
all that's left are the dreams
the daydreams
and the nightdreams
and the nightmares
and the daymares
On another day spent dumpster diving
he'd found a plastic bag
with about six severed hands
They were still cold
some mafia shit was going on
in the city
He took them home
and tried to cook them
hoping to obtain at least some bits of meat
He had no pan and of course no oil
so he impaled them with iron
rods at the writs
and placed them upright in a barrel
he lit up
He sat back watching them
smelling them
Higher on hunger than on the herbs
he'd smoked
And then he'd realized
that they were women's hands
and fantasized about
them springing to life and crawling over
him and doing things to him
It gave him a hard on
or perhaps the illusion of one
but regardless
that was a fun night
The closest he came to having females
over. Some who cooked and
fed him after the fun time
He'll remember that night
for the rest of
his life
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she never finished college
but she was a pill expert
and took pride in it
"Here, this one'll make you rock
against your will. You'd need some."
"Not me," I said
"You afraid?"
"Yes."
"Hahahahaaa, afraid o' some pills, boy?
D' you know what being afraid of
this stuff's called around here?"
"I don't know what's called around here
I'll call it wisdom where I'm at. No
pills for me, thanks."
"Wow, you're such a pussy, ain't ya?
Oh, well that's too bad, I guess.
Would've been fun to rock the bed tonight
but I ain't lookin' for no pussy. I wanna give that."
She gave it to one of my friends along with
some sketchy looking pills
and from that night on they were a couple
of some sorts for a little over a month
And when she took the right pills
she talked in the wrong ways
In her sleep
to the walls
to her cat
to her left foot, but whispering
so the right won't hear
And when she was on pills she would have
her new boyfriend hold her phone
and not allow her to answer if her dad called
Her dad didn't call too often but
somehow managed to call when she was on pills
He just wanted to check how college's going
not knowing she'd quit
or was expelled
months ago
"Ah, my daddy would so kill me
if he found out. Like, yeah, he'd kill me as fuck!
But that's all right. I'm all right.
I know this dude who prints 'em, makes 'em
look like the real thing.
Just give 'im the ID an' cash
and you're good. I'll be good."
Well, I don't know
I guess wisdom comes in many, many forms
that friend of mine she hooked up
with considered it wise to
one day just tell her father the truth
The phone rang for the fourth time
and she was lying in bed
naked with froth about her lips
and eyes staring up into her skull
probably looking for salvation or something
He answered and introduced himself to her father
and told him everything,
even switched to video call to show the man his daughter
He thought he'd save her life this way
Sacrifice the relationship to save your partner's life
I guess that's wise
She went into rehab, I heard
and, what do you know, a few years later
she's married and pregnant
I wonder how wise her husband is...
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it was a sad
sight
lately
and the sounds coming
from it were even
sadder
Such was the house
of humans
Full of shouts
and objects banging and
braking against the walls,
curses against gods,
against parents,
death threats,
agony
and grief
and pure rage
destruction
But not being humans
the two of them
watched from outside,
from their enclosure
outside their pen
“It’s the destiny of
all humans,” she told
him
“To fight each other
to death?” he asked
She nodded
her big, fleshy head,
making her ears flap. “That’s
right. The curse of
those humans is that
they’re trying
too hard
to place a male and
a female in the same space,
have them share the
same life
and actually expect it to
work out. How foolish.”
“Is there really
no way
it can work out?” he asked
“Ah, you’re so young. Barely
more than a piglet,
aren’t you? Look, when it
does work out
between humans... it’s
an exception. Never the rule.
Their curse started with
having fingers
that can grab things
and extended to
having minds that can
grasp concepts
other than food, sleep,
and sex.
To be able to think higher
is a curse, not a blessing. Maybe
they’ll figure it out one day.
Until then,
let us enjoy our lives. Let’s
celebrate, darling. If the humans
are too busy killing themselves
they won’t be slaughtering us
and they’ll soon be our
food
instead of us being theirs. Happy
day! Oh, I am
excited. C’mon, mount me,
darling, let’s celebrate.”
“Mount you?” he said. “But...
aren’t we related?”
“Oh, come now, don’t think
like a human.”
He mounted her
and the
screams coming from inside
the house of humans
accompanied them
like music
It all ended
with a bang
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That did it
He was tired of coming home from work
and finding
a fucking book on the table
instead of food
but the book was also on his
pillow when he went to bed
on the toilet tank
in the garage
in the shed behind the house
and on the dashboard of his goddamn car
He had enough of it
And one day he told her
he had enough of it and enough of her
It was time to break up
this wasn't going to work
He was not going to quit smoking
and she was not going to quit nagging him
to read her book on quitting smoking
"I won't marry you until you're 101 days clean,"
she'd said
He smoked a pack and a half a day
It was time to break up
and, gods, she didn't take it lightly
In that morning he left her alone to collect
all her stuff from his house and be gone
by the time he returned
She was indeed gone by the time he returned
and took nothing more than what belonged to
her and even left something behind
Her self-published book on how to quit smoking,
what else?
He sighed
picked it up from the coffee table
looked it over
sat on the couch
put a cigarette between his lips and
when he lit it the house blew up
Perhaps a big moral in the book was to
always check the gas after a
breakup
but it was too late now
Daydreaming as a profession 