Benjamin walks into the bodega convenience store and meanders through the store, dragging his heavy limbs unsurely. He allows his fingers to brush the two-year-old dust off some metal, matte-finished organizers and some bags of chips. He slowly makes his way through all the rows in the store and goes behind the clerk counter. Then, gravity gradually pulls his face and then his tongue to the cold ground next to the dirty carpet. The ground is not naked, it is accompanied by a tasty, metallic liquid, finding its way up his tongue that is absorbing the desirable, thick blood of the clerk.

            Two weeks ago, Benjamin made a new friend. Benjamin remembered his friend’s name had the letters F, T, and P in it. His friend was a simple, nice creature. He worked a minimum wage job to pay for rent and to feed himself; on weekends, he would volunteer at the soup kitchen that his dear mother used to work at.  Her death seemed to be what kept him motivated to be nice to others everyday—to be truly altruistic, even to strangers. However, he did not continue his education because of her. He did not start a family because of her. He did not follow his passions because of her, but he did not believe he was capable of passion anyway.

            Benjamin met his friend for the first time by the local gas station, which he always stopped at on his way home after work. On that day, he realized he had never seen this employee before and assumed that the employee was new. As Benjamin got out of his car his dab pen slipped out of his pocket, and it cracked when it hit the asphalt.  As he picked it up and dragged his heavy head up, he caught the expression of the new worker.  The employee raised the right corner of his lip until it was at a 30-degree angle, and Benjamin smiled as the anxiety and tension in his shoulders and jaw released.  They laughed and the conversation poured from one mouth into the other. His friend poured light into Benjamin’s mouth; Benjamin poured life into his friend’s mouth in return.

            Now, Benjamin was licking his friend’s blood off the piss-sticky, never cleaned before floor. A mixture of snot and tears crawled down his face, creating a blend of human fluids on top of the dead body he used to call his friend. He realized how dramatic this moment was and he accepted that thought but did not know if he wanted to move on from it.

            Many events had unfolded in the two weeks of friendship: Benjamin observed his friend everyday as he stopped at the gas station, and the simple harmonic motion of his friend getting out of the store, asking for Benjamin’s PIN, filling up the gas tank, and then leaving was entertaining and provided a distinctly pleasurable experience for Benjamin. Benjamin did not know if the employee considered himself his friend and dreaded this thought when he tried to go to sleep each night. His job was not considerably demanding so he always attempted to sleep around 10 PM; however, every night he fumbled around until exhaustion would creep in shortly after checking his phone at 4 AM.

            Now, Benjamin was trying to take as much of his friend in as possible. While the sun violated the horizon, Benjamin performed. Surrounded by the ruins of cement and other industrial wreckage he created, Benjamin realized he escaped, but had fallen in love.

Love has fallen

I created what I believed

This is what I wanted to see you in

I needed to play the game differently

I am sorry that our love has fallen

I am sorry I create accidents

I am happy you played with me

                                      -Benjamin