The Hollow

Pretty lines of music

Tug on them to find more

Down the rabbit hole

Where less is more

Dirty deeds and massacres

The lines turn red

The black parade is coming

Remember that Death is your friend

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Mi Ahn

He awoke in the fuzzy pink floor chair. Head in the seat the rest of his body outstretched on the new carpet. The veggie knife next to his head, he wonders why it is there. Arching his back into a bridge, settling his bones like a cat, he looks at his surroundings. Seeing the numerous empty green soju bottles scattered on the floor and table. A sharp pain rockets inside his temple, he needs water and a hangover cure. A memory floats through his head like a movie, two people in tears. His heart cringes with the memory of their wounded faces.

“We love you! We can’t keep allowing yourself to drink your life away.”

“Don’t lie! You don’t love me! No one actually likes me!”

There is no turning back now. He normally acts like he forgets what happens when he’s drunk. Most people believe him, they are no match for his self-delusions. He gets up, steadying himself, and sees if he can find his lovers. Looking through the different rooms he’s shocked to be unable to find them. Each of them had their own personal room because they were their own person. They shared the house and everything else, but they had their own room when they needed to be alone. Seems like an interesting way to live right? He didn’t like it, his lovers were very much into being their own person. They loved him wholeheartedly but still knew how to be themselves. This is actually why he loved them, that they were so comfortable with themselves. Something he’s still learning.

“Maybe they decided to go grocery shopping. I’ll just call them.”

Self-delusion. More memories float into his head. Flashes of him yelling and crying. The two of them crying and talking to him softly, stroking his wrists. Petting him like a child who’s found out what death is for the first time. Another flash finding the two of them in bed cradling each other, in her room. She’s crying.

“We were having such a great dinner. He cooked both of our favorites. I don’t understand how it turned out like this.”

He walks in; knife in hand placing the blade on the other man’s neck. Getting in bed with them he puts his legs over both of theirs. 

“What if I kill you guys right now? I wouldn’t let you guys leave without me though, don’t worry.” he said.

“You don’t have the balls. You couldn’t kill us. All you do is make these dramatic ploys for attention. Which, by the way, don’t make any sense because everything already revolves around you.” He liked the vibrations he felt as the man said this to him. Was he right?

He moves the knife onto her now. Dragging the blade on her left breast onto her stomach. Their little pea has been growing nicely, she’s even gotten plump growing her. He then moves the knife onto her face staring into her eyes as he slides it down her cheek. There was no fear, just anger, and exhaustion. 

He had tried to call both of their cell phones four or five times by now. All the memories of last night making the pit in his stomach feel heavier. What a terrible mistake he made last night. What a horrible person he is. How had they stayed with him for so long? He remembers that last night was a special occasion. It was their third anniversary, the three of them. Jack and he had been together for six years now, but Molly had been with them for three. He goes to his room and realizes for the first time that his room was the one that they shared the most. It was a perfect combination of all of them. Molly’s love for art and culture decorates the walls. Jack’s  love for creating a safe and balanced space made the room seem bigger than it was. His contribution to the room are the different knick knacks he collected from his trips overseas. They all had an impressive collection of language books, two and a half bookshelves full.

“Honey!! We’re home!” Said Jack and Molly in unison. Crashing into the apartment with excitement.

“I smell samgyapsal!!” said Molly

“I smell buckwheat noodles and kimchi!” said Jack

“Welcome home!” He said giving them both a long kiss. “What you are smelling is correct. There are pieces of pork belly ready to eat and delicious Korean dishes to go with it! Happy Anniversary!” 

The three of them sitting down on the blue and white carpet, making themselves comfortable. He gets two shot glasses for Jack and himself. and a soju from the freezer.  

“I thought we decided that we’d stop drinking altogether, for the baby?” Jack said raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Today is a special occasion!!! Let’s celebrate, it’s not like we drink every day.”

“You do though. Every meal.” Jack said

“This is different. We are celebrating!”

“Ok. I won’t argue today. Only one bottle though, ok?” Jack said 

“That’s all we need!”

There was an answer. Four hours of trying to call them and they finally answer.

“Hey! We were at the doctor. Today was another sonogram. We found out the sex!!” said Molly

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. He broke down in tears gasping for air ever so often.

“I thought you guys left. I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“We love you. You think we’d do that without some kind of note or something? We will be talking though. Once we get home. We’ll hold the good news for afterward.” Molly said.

There was shifting and weird sounds until Jack’s voice came through the phone.

“I told her that you wouldn’t remember that we had a doctor’s appointment. I knew you’d worry. I think this was her way of getting back at you slightly. Serves you right.”

He sniffed “mi ahn ha da”

“jir dao ah. woo men ai ni.” jack said

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” Jack said

“I love you like the stars that have shined before, forever.” Molly said. .  . . .

 

Doormat

She knocked on my door like she always did

Ghost like

Nothing to do, why not hang out with a friend

She knows I don’t see her as a friend

We pretend

I tried to quiet my heart

Unable to stop it’s talking when she was near

She just wanted sleep

She could have gone home

She could have done something more productive

Alas, here she is in my bed sleeping

I play the music loud to drown out my heart

She can’t hear either

Me liking her makes no sense

We’d never be compatible

Then I watch her breathe

How peaceful she looks

I watch as she takes a breath

Follow the flow of oxygen

In through her nose

Symmetrical with her lips

Always slightly chapped

Like how she’s always slightly hungry

Down her long tanned neck

Her chest moves with life

Always sighing in sleep

Then she wakes up blinking at me

Caught

She stares into my eyes

Forcing me to fidget

She has an amazing person

I try to remind myself

We’ve been friends for long

Not love, just infatuation

Memories

When we said ‘I love you’

As friends

Next to her gravitational pull

I have pictures

My lips her kneck

My lips her thighs

My lips between her

She’s just a friend

I’m just a doormat with a bed

One that always says ‘Welcome Home’

 

 

What is lonely?

She remembers this feeling. It’s nothing new, a decade ago she felt it too. Restless, disappointed, and scared. Still having trouble with fixing these issues. She used to wonder how people acted the way they did, how they kept moving. She hasn’t been able to shake the feeling of uselessness as she wonders once again the point to anything. She has been staring at her phone, that cost her more than her rent, realizing that no one was going to text her. Even if they did text her or call what would she even talk about? How she is stuck? That she knows soon everyone will be gone doing great things, while she’s still here doing nothing. Or, how about her fear of doing things because after putting all that effort in you didn’t even enjoy it? Talk about the empty? It doesn’t matter, so she sits. Or, rather, lies on her bed staring at the ceiling. Thinking about how much time is left on this earth for her. It weighs upon her chest and makes her want to do something.

“Twenty-four years is so long. I feel so tired. I haven’t even done or seen much. Nothing has happened to me. However, I’m over it. There are people who’ve done and seen so much. Someone could do great with this life. I really wish it wasn’t given to me.” She thinks.

She decides it’s too quiet, that was what was wrong. She puts on some music which does nothing but reminds her of the past. She wraps the music around her like the comfort blanket it is. She stops hearing music and only sees pictures. The different people she liked. The different people she tried to befriend. The realization that she never learned to connect with anyone.

Her eyes grow heavy and she accepts that none of this will change. All because of her. It all goes black to the perfect world called sleep. Her phone lighting up and singing goodnight.