The Day My Girlfriend From Freshman Year Died

          You always wake
          Up physically sick
          From growing
          Physical desire

          And a sense
          Of being
          Rushed,

          Never enough
          Time to
          Enjoy the
          Sound of your
          Keys
          Clicking,

          The way her
          Name looks
          When it
          Shows up
          On your
          Screen.

          You masturbate
          In the morning
          And again
          At lunch,

          You debate
          Eating Chinese food
          And going
          To get
          Groceries
          So you do both.

          You hate cooking
          While
          You’re
          Hungry.

          Sometimes
          It bothers
          You when
          Girls call
          A man
          Daddy
          During sex

          But it also
          Bothers you

          When people act
          Like watching
          Porn and playing
          Video games
          Stunts development.

          Masochism and sadism,
          Transvestites and chicks
          With dicks
          Are all old
          Buzz words,

          Now true crime is a
          A queer
          Pass time
          And more appealing
          Than most
          Occult thrillers.

          You wrote on this
          Computer
          Every morning
          In the Spring,

          Drafting, revising,
          Your mind back in
          August 2016
          When your mother’s
          Diagnosis
          Of breast cancer
          Triggered
          Anxiety attacks
          Of your own,

          Worrying that the benign
          Lipoma on your
          Side was misdiagnosed.

          During your freshman
          Year in college,

          Your partner always
          Talked about
          Dating
          And the need to feel
          Alive.

          You always told her
          How much
          You resented
          The
          Freudian
          Interpretations
          Of sex intermixed
          With murder
          And incest,

          That getting nasty
          Is just a fun
          Passtime.

          She didn’t call you last night,
          She didn’t call
          You in the morning.

          You make breakfast
          And piss
          And shit
          Like you always
          Do.

          You remember
          That distance
          Is not
          A savior.


Thursday Simpson is a multimedia artist living between Peoria, Illinois and Iowa City, Iowa. Her first chapbook, Three Gothic Stories (2018), is published with Moonchaps. WEB     TWITTER
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