Time Travel. in The grotesque metamorphosis of a Bi-Polar human into a Tri-polar monster.

Dirty water…smells like orange Rockstars and vodka.
Smells like dirty clothes and dirty hair and sleeping on the floor.
Smells like getting kicked out of the new house you just moved into only a week ago…smells like they stole your amp.
Smells like dirty sex and poppers that his ex boyfriend gave you both so that you’d fuck better and so he could complain about the noise and the mess.

Poppers smell like Satan…smell like that empty hotel room in Vegas where he left you to go to his Grandfathers funeral.
She left you too…but you don’t even know that yet…that’s why you got poppers instead of a hooker.
Oh, and because you’re broke.

What about that hooker you shared your crack with?
She drove you to the guitar players house who kicked you out of the band because you threw his little sisters keys in the snow…you threw them in the snow because they took your keys because you were too drunk.
That’s why you smoked the crack and called the hooker and took a metal rake over to his house at 5 in the morning.
She wouldn’t fuck you in the bathroom, but she let you feel her up a bit…that was the first time you felt a fake boob.
Man, you were only a kid.

Speaking of being a kid, remember when you drank piss?
You used to be a good little cock sucker, didn’t you?
All the games that adults taught you about…they never felt very good, did they?
When you became an adult yourself you played them aggressively, didn’t you?
You cheated, didn’t you?
You played for keeps, and you lost…and you swore you would never play again.

You haven’t played in a long time.
You may never play again.
We’re proud of you, son.

Sometimes you think the reason you don’t want kids is because you think you’d hurt them.
Not on purpose…not the way you were hurt.
But you would hurt them all the same.
And they will hate you.
And you couldn’t live with that.

Spinning around, you remember the last time you talked to her on the phone.
She told you, “I’m pregnant, and it’s not yours, and I’m going to marry him…and you fucked up! You are my soulmate! We are soulmates! But you ruined it!”
She was over 700 miles away, but it still cut you like a knife.
Stabbed you in the guts and twisted.
You spilled everywhere.
Her portrait was the last thing you drew before you went to the hospital and died for the second to last time.
She saw it…she saw your portrait…she saw that you were in the hospital…she still cares.
She still cares.

Remember all the kids you should have?
You should have a 12 year old right now, right?
If it wasn’t for that miscarriage, yeah?
You’d have an 8 year old too…but her psychic told her to abort it and to never tell you.
But she told you, six months later, drunk, as you were driving her home from the bar.

You’d also have a 5 year old right now.
This time, this one told you she was pregnant, and she told you she wasn’t keeping it, and then she took a picture of it after it was aborted and sent it to you and you can still see it just as clear as day…bright white, ghost white, with those pale blue eyes…and a little tail.
It looked nothing like you.
It still fucked you up.

Maybe that’s why her mom still loves you so much.

Remember when you dated your bass player and moved in with her and her daughter?
Sometimes you think that the whole thing was a mistake…other times you think it was rewarding, maybe one of the most rewarding things you ever did.
She ended up dropping you like a bad habit because you were the living embodiment of a piece of shit…a drug dealer who worked at the strip club and drank all day every day.

After it ended, it would be years before you finally stopped dreaming about her little girl…you missed her the most, didn’t you? You soft, pussy.

But you would never admit to being soft, would you?
You’re hard as ever.
Hard as they come.
The only thing about you that isn’t hard anymore is your dick because of those anti-psychotics, right? Hahaha…and you call yourself a man.

Why is time travelling always so painful?
Why are all these things you remember so hurtful?
Why do you think you’ve moved so far past this?

Remember when you used to smoke crack and heroin?
Remember when you used to smoke Lucky Strike Studs because you were in Dane and the Death Machine and you didn’t give a fuck if you lived or died?
Remember the first time you ever got drunk, and you got arrested, and it was the best night of your life?
You were 12.
Remember the first time you got stoned and you were so high for so many hours and you had so much fun with your friends and your piece of shit step brother?
You were 13.
Remember the first time you took mushroom and you walked to Carls Jr. with your friend Zane who is still one of your best friends, and the entire football team walked in to the same restaurant you were in and you both left before you got your orders because you didn’t want to get your asses kicked while you were tripping?
You were 14.
Remember when a member of the football team called you a “faggot” and you stood up to him and you got your ass kicked, and you loved it?
You were 15.
Remember when you took mushroom again and went to the homecoming game in black fishnets and your sisters black dress and combat boots and black lipstick and sunglasses at night?
You were 16.
Remember the first time you played to an audience of over 100 people? It was 500 people.
You were 17.

Can you remember anything else?

Sometime after 17, things started to get a little blurry, didn’t they?

Remember your 21’st birthday?
You passed out drunk in the middle of your living room floor around 2 PM, and woke up to your party happening without you…no one could wake you up, so they just left you on the floor, and once you woke up you just smoked some crack and got back to drinking, didn’t you?
Maybe that’s why you can’t remember anything.

Remember when you did meth that one time?
And you did it for three days straight?
Remember when you found all the secrets to the universe?
Remember how you couldn’t ever remember them again?

Sometimes time travelling is hard.

…

I want something better than the life I have lived.
I wish this wasn’t my past, but here I am.
I have made so many mistakes.
I have had a lot of fun.
I wish I could remember more of it.
I wish I had more to show for myself.
I wish I had someone who would remember me and miss me when I’m gone.
I wish I believed in leaving a legacy.

Sometimes it feels like life is just this messy thing that you fight through, like playing rugby in a pool…remember that time you knocked that kids two front teeth out while you were playing rugby?

Why didn’t it feel good?
Why are you so soft?