Feb2016al by Jessica Gleason

Aberration Labyrinth

Aberration Labyrinth ISSN 2179-8805

February 2016

Issue #18

Leaving You in North Carolina- The Greyhound Effect Nikki Zambon

“Oh, those are just angel kisses” she slurs kindly

someone shouts at the driver where the hell is the music?!

I can’t figure out why these camel cigarettes don’t taste the same as they did when I was on that mosquito-netted porch drawing them in with you perhaps we forced it

He ignores the question but still croaks over the intercom like a late night talk show host just don’t forget to thank the baggage people the baggage people

shutout therapy row, spiders crooned tracing themselves across our backs we were distracted and hadn’t noticed the afternoons being swept up like leaves trading their rust coat for wings lonesome cars spiraling down the blue ridge parkway

V. the little girl sitting in front of me drops her tinkerbell toy by my foot I too plunge trying to recall the six words that Hemingway said would bring everyone to tears

II. Through unfamiliar smoke I watch a mother steadying her baby on one hip it’s bulbous head exposed bare legs dangling

Father's Foot Tempest Brew

you’re going to drop him

I keep it on a chain for a good luck to remind me of him

my heart batters my chest genuflecting to my imaginary amniotic sac I’ll be good if you’ll never take form

small wizened piece of ancestry that went so many

III. my hair has been falling out in stealthy patches a follicle draught

dirty places

I gaze down- How is it that asphalt could be so sweaty? I repeat louder and raise one eyebrow interrogating the grounds of Kentuckyunable to respond due to fine, brown strands of evidence clinging to it’s black-tar mouth IV. I’m on the bus though I feel it’s taken off without me eventually droplets of air conditioned spitcleanse my ear canals Women talk about the expenses of strip clubs layovers in Cincinnati casino lights that shone down on the money poking out of their pockets One sips whiskey conspicuously out of a flask looks over at me licks her thumb and tries to rub the moles off my face

Aberration Labyrinth ISSN 2179-8805

February 2016

Issue #18

I would, as a drunk should Austin Cummings I would, as a drunk should (if he could) avoid frailties When under the bottle. Rebel Donna Davis

But sober lips seal Letters carved in life Of wet appeal and taste. And I defy Sanctuary In obtaining light - I detract.

You were about seventy in the flesh and sixteen in the head, looking like an aging Bardot with slicked-back white hair, tricked out Marlon Brando style in silver-studded motorcycle leathers.

Reaching up from under Zombied. Craving. Tongue's touch From knee to neck, Seducing one last beat. Until one turns two, Then three more, And you hear, More, more, More.

It was once upon a time in the fifties, and might not have seemed so strange today, raised quite as many eyebrows, or caused the street corner punks to mock you out and spit tobacco on the sidewalk near your boots. I might not have gawked out the window of my dad’s Pontiac or watched the hurt in your eyes turn to smoldering defiance when you fought them back with sparks from a flicked cigarette.

The Rant of the Anti-Poet Donna Davis Nobody likes boring poets. So why don’t these wussies just go away? How many hours do they spend weaving words about moonlight or some dumbass daffodil growing miraculously in a dying woods choked by grapevines? They drone on endlessly about silence and death to set the world free of anything fun.

I can’t say how your story ended, only that you were the first real rebel I had ever seen. The Pontiac pulled ahead in traffic, on its way to the north side, and I left you behind on that corner as you took a last drag and vanished in the doorway of a downtown bus.

Ugly dudes write poetry to get laid. Plain chicks think it will score them more dates. Even their friends run the other way to escape those little books of poems they really don’t want to read. Give me anything but dull poetry. Give me a case of the clap. Give me blood on the split lip of some dimwit intellectual. Give me a synonym for the word boring that isn’t poetry. Poets, I’ve got a beer can to lob at your butts. Get over yourselves and get real.

Aberration Labyrinth ISSN 2179-8805

February 2016 Drinking Buddies Anonymous

Issue #18 As we fell asleep. You never tried to kiss me; Your hands never wandered; You just held me tight in your arms and let me Drift to sleep. I felt safe in your arms.

I don’t know what makes me love you. You are kind of a piece of shit. Maybe that’s why I love you. I finally found someone that’s as fucked up as I am.

That sounds clichéd. It is clichéd. I never really understood what people meant when they said it.

You’re handsome, charming, wildly talented – But that isn’t why I love you. I love you because I can see your pain. You cover it up with laughs, cynicism, smiles, charm And too much self-medication. I see what’s really there.

Normally men make me feel far from safe. They make me Anxious, Uncomfortable, Scared. Not you, though. No, You made me feel safe. As long as you were holding me, everything would be okay. No matter what turmoil I was feeling, It was okay. You felt it too. Your pain made me feel safe.

Behind those laughing eyes is something struggling, Fighting, Something you can’t quite explain. You don’t want anyone to know, No one wants to be around someone constantly in turmoil. You don’t want them to see, They can’t understand. You don’t understand. I understand. That’s why I love you.

Perhaps that is when I started to notice. All those nights with your arms around me. That was the only time when your Defenses were down. We didn’t talk about it, but I could feel What you felt As we were lying in the dark quiet of my bedroom.

When I met you, I didn’t think much. It wasn’t love at first sight Or any of that romantic bullshit. Romance has never been our forte. You were just some guy. I thought you were cute. I went weak in the knees when I heard you sing. I do that with every guy I hear sing – Even if he isn’t that talented. I’m pretty sure every girl does. I thought you were weird, silly, fun, So I made you my friend. Even that day when you called me up with your broken heart – That day you two broke up – I could tell you were sad, but all I saw Was superficial love-sickness. We got drunk. We danced. When you fell asleep at the bar I called us a cab I took you back to my house and put you to bed. The next morning you were semi-apologetic. “I was probably too drunk to have sex – next time” As if I was expecting you to fuck me. I just laughed. I should have said, “I wouldn’t have fucked you if you begged me” That’s what I was thinking. I had more self-respect than you gave me credit for. More self-respect than you still give me credit for. After that night we started hanging out a lot. By hanging out, I mean getting shitty drunk at sleazy bars. Did we ever hang out together sober? I think not. This was fine by me. I’ve never been very good at being sober. You would crash at my house and hold me tight in your arms

Mornings were always awkward. It was as if we were both trying to prove To each other That we didn’t mean anything To each other. We were just drinking buddies. You never stayed for breakfast or coffee; We didn’t hang out. I called a cab to take us back to the bar and retrieve our vehicles. We rode there in silence. We parted ways. We didn’t speak Until next time at the bar. People started to assume we were together. People have a tendency to do that. I always set them straight. I couldn’t let people get the wrong idea About us. I was afraid that I might start to get the wrong idea About us. I knew I didn’t stand a chance to be Anything To you. I was just the girl you were using To distract yourself. I was always up for a party. I was there for the sole purpose Of fluffing up your ego. I knew that.

Aberration Labyrinth ISSN 2179-8805

February 2016 I don’t know why I let myself be that to you. I guess it’s because I had begun to love you. Even if I wouldn’t admit it Even to myself. I needed to be near you. I needed your crazy to ease my own. I became addicted To the confusion you made me feel. Being with you Was a constant cycle Of push and pull. You would pull me closer With your charm And the little things you would say If I didn’t know any better I would think it was your way of flirting with me. The next moment, though, you would push me away. Push me away making fun of me. Push me away rebuking a compliment I gave you. Perhaps you thought I was getting too attached – You were right. I’m not putting all the blame on you. I was no better. While I was probably nicer to you than you were to me, I played a little push and pull of my own. I tried to keep you at a distance. I was always quick to correct someone Assuming we were more than just friends. I was always quick to make an awkward joke The few times you were sweet. I talked about other guys, I suggested other girls for you. I was always trying to convince you And myself We were nothing more than drinking buddies. We went along like this for a while. Drinking Flirting Ridiculing Cuddling Awkward mornings Silence Repeat Then we did something stupid. I don’t know what made that night different. Maybe we were just drunker than normal. Abruptly, I decided I need to sleep. I stood up from my chair and walked outside. I walked out to the car. I passed out in the front seat. You soon followed. You took the tire out of the back of the Jeep. You folded the backseat down. You coaxed me into the Jeep bed. Why we didn’t just call a cab, I can’t figure out. We were too drunk to think rationally. You climbed right in there with me

Issue #18 And put your arms around me. You put your arms around me as you had done So many times before. Then you kissed me. You kissed me softly. I knew I shouldn’t let it go anywhere. I knew it was a bad idea I didn’t care. So there, In the back of my Jeep in a bar parking lot, You and I had sex. It was awkward, drunken sex I barely remember. I’m sure you don’t either. But it happened. We had sex. As soon as it was over, truthfully – As soon as it had begun – I knew we made a mistake. I didn’t want to lose you. Even if drinking buddies is all we would ever be, I didn’t want to lose you. I knew this would make you leave. It would be too awkward. You would fear me wanting more. You would leave. I just wanted everything to stay The same. I was so scared everything would change. And it did. In an effort to keep things The same, I went out of my way to show you How little you meant to me. The most awkward things came out of my mouth. In an effort to keep things The same, I made things as awkward as humanly possible. I should have kept my mouth shut and went to sleep. But I didn’t. I was thirsty. I returned to the bar for water. The stragglers pitied me. “Did you just have sex in a car?” My hair gave it away. I had to pee. The bar was closed. I squatted by the car and let my urine Flow into a puddle where you had relieved yourself earlier. And there we were. Two fucked up people Sleeping in the back of a Jeep In a bar parking lot Next to our puddles of urine. Romance was never our forte. Apparently, neither was dignity. A few hours later Your alarm went off.

Aberration Labyrinth ISSN 2179-8805

February 2016 You had to go to work. We got out of the car and you put the tire back Where it belonged. I got in my car I gave an awkward wave. “See you later!” You awkwardly kissed my cheek. You got in your car and drove away. I worried that would be The last time I saw you. The next couple of weeks were strained. I still can’t tell if you were actually avoiding me Or if it was just My own insecurity Imagining it. There was no cuddling, No playful banter, No nights just the two of us At the bar. Finally you met me and the gang At the bar. Everything seemed normal again. After you left, I texted you Asking if we were still friends. “Of course we are!” You gave me a false Sense of security. The next time we hung out As friends I was sure everything was back to normal, Our normal. That was the last time we hung out. We were at the bar Being silly, Getting drunk, Having fun, Just like we used to. I took you back to my apartment You put your arms around me. I was happy for that same old comfort. Then you kissed me. As you started kissing me I felt a growing sadness and fear – A sickness in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t the same anymore. It probably never would be. You were drunker than I was. Having sex with you was the worst thing I could do. I didn’t want to fuck you. You were too important. I was preparing to tell you no When you flipped me around to face you And held my face in your hands. I didn’t know what to do. I should have said no, But I didn’t. I was worried what it would mean If I said no.

Issue #18 Maybe it would make things weirder between us. Maybe if I did you would see how I really felt. Maybe it would scare you away. If I gave in, maybe you would think we were really just friends Being silly, Being drunk, Having sex. That was some awkward sex. I felt self-conscious, Emotionally conflicted, Completely incapable of having a good time – And it showed. You were too drunk to notice. You didn’t say anything. All of a sudden, You weren’t you anymore. You were just every other guy Who just wanted to fuck me. I didn’t feel safe in your arms anymore. I felt anxious Uncomfortable Scared. I couldn’t let it finish. I just rolled to my side of the bed, Curled up, and went to sleep. The next morning was Awkward as usual. You barely spoke, Except to say You were still drunk. I drove you to work You kissed me on the cheek, You said goodbye, And you left. You left for the last time. I called, I texted, You stopped responding. There was no explanation, you just Dropped me. We were no longer friends. We were no longer drinking buddies. We weren’t anything. You hurt me. But I couldn’t bring myself To tell you. I still can’t. I can’t bear the smug self-satisfaction And mocking grin That would follow. I can’t bear for you To run off and tell your friends – Our friends – About the crazy girl Obsessed with you. I can’t give you that satisfaction. You don’t make it easy, though.

Aberration Labyrinth ISSN 2179-8805

February 2016

Issue #18

You just keep me on the hook. I deleted your number I deleted your Facebook I stopped going places where I thought I might run into you. I moved six-hundred miles away. Still, I can’t escape you. You still send me those middle-of-the-night Drunken texts, You say you miss me. You say you’ve been thinking of me. I know it isn’t true. But it keeps me on the hook. I still love you. Now I’m back. You must know I’m back. You don’t call. You don’t text. Everything has stopped. You blocked my Facebook. You blocked me. I am nothing to you now. Really, you are nothing to me. I’ve gotten past the heartache – Past the pain of losing you. I’m finally ready to move on, Finally ready To love someone new. But I can’t get past the fear. Past the fear of being second best. Past the fear of never feeling The way I did with you. You caused so much pain -I loved that pain. I don’t love you. I don’t love you. I don’t love you. But I love the pain. The pain I felt when we were Just drinking buddies.

Needleteeth Roger Still he's got rows and rows that threaten to grind me so I must climb out of the water of my mind before the fog rolls in and those teeth bite

Camille Roger Still she's lovely, a tangle of knots, lust, and promise, until I lift her bangs and gaze in her empty eyes

Little Red One Roger Still I spot in the corner of the bathroom and nearly make it out in time before he's on me, thank goodness no one is around

Aberration Labyrinth ISSN 2179-8805

February 2016

Issue #18

Our Real Warmth Robert Eggleton Pap puffed power Into now ungloved frozen fingers And cracked his knuckles To send a signal Kindling obeyed and caught fire Us boys saw and shut our mouths Outside, our kill hung and drained Its flows becoming drips Recurring plops into puddles Invasive echoes that increased our restlessness Defiant wind opened cabin’s door wide Stink of steaming deer guts mingled with evening’s mist It swooshed inside to mix manhood pride with childhood guilt We had been warned about such confusing coexistences Chuck got up to latch the lock again “One time,” Pap started this season's same story “Ma was young, too young” Chuck needlessly whispered "sssshh" to insist on respect Boys' eyes widened to await wisdom More mature eyes closed To reinforce respective reflections On never to be forgotten first times “Ma had slipped out of Sunday School To find flowers for Faith’s funeral” Pa pegged the spittoon properly loud A purposeful pause in performance "Man, oh man! Ma's best friend, murdered by the friggin' meanest mommy This story is too sad to say But, boys, always remember to do your chores" A sound from the darkness outside interrupted Chuck got up again to check “I was hid behind the big Birch in back of the church barn Ma made me memorize almost a whole Bible story first Then, we went into the Woods Ma found flowers and I found my future wife”

“Something started toward us Looked like an alien or something like you'd see on TV It wasn't running, it was sorta swimming in air I crapped in my cut-offs It came closer …and closer …and closer! Faith’s flowers flew into the air and swirled around in circles above us like magic!” There was a wa,wa,wa,wa,wa sound Ma pissed her panties!" "That's what she said later." Tommy’s toboggan reappeared then disappeared again when he smelled the redolence Six seconds passed, exactly Frank’s father snored with a wheezy whistle “Ma knelt on her knees and prayed to be saved She said Jesus' name so many times That I couldn’t count them all I just stood there and stank” A bird’s nest in the chimney must have burst in flames because Sparkles fell into the fireplace and floated all around the cabin until going out on the floor “We hid behind a willow tree The bright-blue light eventually left Ma thinks it was a sign not to have sex before nuptials, But, I think it meant not to put fun in front of feeding my family” Pap sipped the last of his shine and crawled into his sack Chuck left the cabin to cut on his truck’s fog lights Their blue lenses caused the carcasses and the interior of the cabin to haze Slight snow insulated the cabin’s roof with accumulating florescent flakes An eerie ambiance kept the boys compliant But, the guts on the ground were uncooperative After rinsing the blood off his boots in the brook Chuck was the last to try to sleep He shaped his body into a box Cozy in the corner “Happy belated birthday, Boy” Pap warmed his oldest son last One who would never wonder about Or doubt the absolute truth

Chuck retuned with a dead raccoon Pap lit a stick of incense and took sip of shine “We saw a big-bright-blue-light around the bend” Pap pointed at the window and held pose Boys' heads ducked under wadded-up denim “It smelled sickly, like honeysuckle in summer” Pap puffed his pipe full of fruity flavored tobacco Six seconds passed, exactly Chuck cut off the tail first and then threw out the coon Six seconds passed, more or less

Aberration Labyrinth ISSN 2179-8805

February 2016

Issue #18

Box of Dreams Dylan Altman Once the snow clears, the Lord of Light reigns true. His follower’s pause and play for homage. Bathe us in your radiation. Oh, bringer of myth and wasted time, entrapped in a prism of plasma. God of man, infect our minds broaden our sight. Funnel of the masses, technological transcript, opera of faith, Tell us stories, give us realities, define our lives. Turn us on!

Scrambled with a Side of Soma Dylan Altman Wobbling, essence striving for form. Breath fogging up her cell, asphyxiated by motion. Naming herself… She…. wants the sunny side, wants the mismatched, wants the broken. But, She gets what she needs. Laconic rumbling, movement betraying intent; Spider webs fracture around her, a promise of purity.

Janus likes to watch Dylan Altman Like an event horizon, he is life and destruction. Order and Chaos. Janus watches these Clowns on strings, frozen smiles smeared red, tears tearing ass down leathery cheeks, figures forever dancing on re-run. A primordial TiVo, never allowed to pause, only to observe. His eyes askew, judging them and their shadows, the new heroes. Muppets, re-appropriating the actor, Situaton-ing the show. Roles, unable to stray, plans written in motion. But, united he will act. Tragedy and Comedy together again, double vision power. Striking down the real, promoting the orchestrated!

Her de-re-construction a moment a hour a day Stale Womb, Eviction notice, Brave New World

All artwork in this issue was provided by Ben Mohr