Love Hurts

Sometimes I think I must have imagined that night. It was like one of those direct-to-video action movies with Bruce Willis or Nicolas Cage – blah blah, pow pow, and over in something under 90 minutes. We tugged at each other’s clothes, moaned each other’s names, rubbed, sucked, writhed. I was bleeding so severely afterward, my bottom lip split open, my eyebrow practically torn off, that I almost passed out. Instead, the world persisted in behaving recklessly, ringing the doorbell and then running off. I knew without knowing how I knew that all things were the same thing to the dark.From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie's newest poetry collection, Heart-Shape Hole, which also includes examples of his handmade collages, is available from Laughing Ronin Press.

Virtual Insanity

Shibuya Station is nearly empty. The afternoon rain sent all the gamers scrambling for shelter for their mobiles.

I am left to wait virtually alone. The desolation leaves me feeling I am a character in a post-nuclear zombie p2p actioner. Hisamitsu and Starbucks and the latest Bruce Willis movie are the sponsors of my apocalypse. Even my daydreams have become corporatized.

I see her exit the underground. Her eyes never leave her mobile. She walks past, not even noticing the rain.

Her avatar pops onto my screen for a few fleeting seconds.

Our marriage will endure another seven years.