I watched him convulse on the steps
Like a dreadlocked fish out of water
His friend was screaming, “He’s dying, he’s dying!”
I was next door and shirtless and chain smoking
And swiping right on everyone on Tinder
When the paramedics came, he suddenly burst into life
Then he started crying, then he began gagging on violent vomit
His stomach turned inside out right in front of me
It smelled like roses and I thought of those Virgin Mary statues
That weep tears of blood
He almost died of a drug overdose
It’s a miracle he survived
He didn’t want to ride the ambulance alone
But that’s what happened
His friend was drunk anyway
When the dust settled and the red lights went out
I got up and stared at the puddle of vomit
I stirred it with a stick like I was a witch stirring some cauldron
Trying to predict the future and it was hypnotizing
Like a star being swallowed up by a black hole
So this is what loneliness looks like, I thought
It will never ever end
Suddenly I heard a ding and so my eyes climbed out of the overdose
Cause I knew I got a match on Tinder
And wanted to see who might fix this loneliness
I was unimpressed but would message her the next day
After all, there were van Gogh tattoos bleeding out of her chest
Severed ears and starry nights swirling together like a milkshake
Suddenly a feeling of strangeness washed over me
Like I was shampooing my hair with divine knowledge
And it was seeping through the follicles and into my brain
I saw all the people that could roll around in my bed
Emotional architects with dead eyes feeding me drinks and pinpricks
And when you’re at a low point in your life this seems alright
But you can’t build a skyline out of whiskey dicks
That’s no city you wanna live in
Where the buildings don’t rise like they should
That’s a city of the dead
I looked again at the puddle of vomit, saw my reflection
Saw that the future is messy and turns us all into bitter witches
Brewing lovesick potions and crafting spells with needle marks and cat hair
Addicted to the things that go bump in the night
So I put on a shirt and went for a walk
Looking for those things that go bump in the night
Looking for anything really
The night sky was full of curled-up salmon looking to spawn
What the hell, I thought, I’ll just go with the flow and try to spawn too
The least we can do with our pain
Is to keep splitting it in half until there’s nothing left
That’s how you defeat loneliness, how you force it into hiding after all
In human bodies nearly two trillion cells divide every day for us to survive
Why should hurtfulness or the torment all around us be any different?
Just look at me: I was once in love with a heroin addict and her ghost is everywhere
So are the ghosts of friends and family who convulsed on steps
Ghosts that didn’t make it to the street
Ghosts that didn’t make it into the ambulance
Ghosts that didn’t split in the nick of time
Ghosts left with the totality of their loneliness
Their wholeness is haunting, all-consuming
They couldn’t disconnect from their bad parts
Anyway, as I walked up Grant St trying to split myself in two
I was wondering if we’re truly alone in the universe
Well, feels like I have one foot in the tundra and the other in the desert
And there’s holes in my boots tired of running after anyone
So maybe but I sure as hell hope not
The badness runs through me like Spanish bulls
Suddenly it was 1:14 a.m. and the start of my sunset split
I lost my stomach on the front steps of the West Side Bazaar
Where five months ago I tried new Burmese dishes
And the food was good
Maybe hunger for newness is the cure to all of this
Down the street I lost my eyes when they were swallowed up
By the electric chair windows of this dingy apartment building
Where I knew the lonely motherfuckers inside were shooting up
Hostels of youthful dementia clogging up city streets
(I still get choked up thinking about her geography)
Maybe being blinded is the only way to make it to the end of the desert
I lost my ears as I made my way toward the Niagara River
Cause I blew out my hearing listening to the emptiness all around
To the distance between us
Humanity hasn’t slept in the same bed for over 200,000 years
The trick I think is to ignore the complaints of mattresses in the middle of the night
By night’s end I was broken man
I sat on a meteorite by the river’s edge
Trying to piece myself together again
Then suddenly as if by witch’s magick
I saw my city of whiskey dicks being burned to the ground
Then the river transformed into a hateful cauldron
There were severed ears of ex-lovers floating like ice on the current
There were pallbearers locking lips in canoes made from family trees
I flicked my blunt into the pagan stew and watched all the ghosts get high
They swirled heavenward and came together like a storm front
Hauntingly and stubbornly whole
And I felt myself being swallowed up by the democracy of regret
Then suddenly there were these starfish running from the cops
They were armed only with their good parts
They ran straight into the river’s harmful bloom
Where, hand-in-hand, they constellated into something to live for: each other
Cause I guess when you feel like you’re drowning in loneliness
You gotta hang on for the love of God you just gotta hang on
Justin Karcher is the author of Tailgating at the Gates of Hell from Ghost City Press, http://ghostcitypress.tumblr.com/gcp003. Recent works have been published in 3:AM Magazine, The Buffalo News, Plenitude Magazine, Melancholy Hyperbole, Foundlings, and more. He is the winner of the 2015 Just Buffalo Literary Center members’ writing competition. He tweets @Justin_Karcher.
Photo: melschmitz