Death by Sake Bomb

I walk into this nice retaraunt and head straight for the bar. My stomach is doing that same thing it does after bad Mexican food. I need a cigarette. Damn! Smoked the last of them at my party last night.

He's sitting there waiting for me. Black pearl snap shirt, Lucky jeans with a patch on the knee. Weathered brown boots with that metal loop on the side. And that shiny bald head.

A reasonably short but heartfelt embrace, at least on my part. A Shiner for me and we head home.

I open my present. Sake bombs. Great present! Meaningful, so I thought. Representative of times past, we shared together. I wish he would have bought me a fucking pre-packaged gift basket from Bath & Body works. Something really cheesy like Sun Ripened Rasberry.

So, tell me. Why wouldn't you stay with me last night? Why?

Why do you make me think you like me?

Why the fucking sake bombs?

Why anything at all?

I sort of feel like kicking all your teeth out of your head.

Fuck. Leave me & my emotions alone!

Don't write. Don't call. And for God's sake. If you must give me a present for my birthday DO NOT comemorate a date we had a month ago with it! DON'T!

You emotional bounty hunter.
"Hello, my name is Domino Harvey."
"Hello, my name is SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

I don't want to hear about your documentaries.
I don't want to hear about your tool father.

You manipulator of me
You manifestation of contradiction
You manicured piece of shit

Sake...Sake...Sake BOMB!

The short tower of hope, demolished.

I threw the ceramic carafe and four sake cups over the balcony. I gathered the chards, took my bottle of sake and one Sippora downstairs. I brought the chop sticks with me...oh and the little bag covered in Asian cloth too. I burnt it all. Emotions turned to ash. Feeling disappeared like difusing smoke. All that was left was a pile of black nothingness.

Yet, somewhere underneath all of the nihilism emerges some need, some drive, some inner strength to not give up.

***I didn't really burn my present, but I thought about it***