Two days later I pass by Jeremy’s apartment. It looks like mine. Jeremy, my neighbor, smoking buddy. The apartments look all the same around here.
The flat screen, the stereo. Gone.
All the valuable stuff is gone.
So is Jeremy.
Nothing left from Jeremy. His personality is gone, his energy is gone, his soul is gone. It is a room void of any memory of Jeremy.
Blood stains are tough. These thick carpets soak up everything.
Memories, just as tough.
Yesterday his mom was here. She had to clean it all. Blood, brain, shit.
Yet I still see it all
Reality in Texas.
The only one I don’t see anymore is Jeremy. As if he had never been there.
Plop, plop, plop.
I sit on my couch, having a joint, listening to some music.
I know this sound, I hear it quite often.
No backfire. Shots fired. Texas.
A girl screams, someone runs past my door. Somebody else runs in the opposite direction.
The noise is coming from Jeremy’s place, my next door neighbour.
Jeremy, smoking buddy, 20 years old, baby face. Last year baby face got himself caught at the Mexican border – with 550 pounds weed .
The door of Jeremy’s apartment is wide open.
The smell of maze and gunpowder
I see JP. Smoking buddy. On Jeremy’s back.
I see JP. His hand, his knife.
I see JP. He is killing Jeremy.
Seems to have fun.
“I gotcha, I gotcha, I gotcha.” I hear JP.
From here on it’s like a movie.
What happens, happens.
I am high.
The best drug ever.
A drug no money can buy.
I am in a different world, totally clear, fearless, above it all.
I drag JP away from Jeremy.
Take the knife away.
JP lets it happen.
He kneels next to me and rocks back and forth, back and forth.
“I got him, I got him, I got him.”
A Lucky Cat with sound.
“Dude, what did you do?”
“I finished him. Finished, finished, finished.”
“Yeah man, you did.”
Jeremy, torn human figure, gurgling, the holes in his shirt.
Parts of his head strangely missing.
I turn Jeremy around.
I can’t let him die with his face in the carpet.
Below his left eye is a little hole.
His eyes are wide open.
I don’t know where he is right now.
Jeremy is not here anymore.
And not gone either.
Somehow he looks surprised.
“Have a safe journey”, I say.
“Greetings to the other side.”
“I’ll see ya.”
I babble nonsense and I mean it.
Jeremy still looks surprised when the gurgling ends.
A couple of neighbors are standing in the door but they don’t come in.
I know what they see.
Me in the middle of everything
What do I care?
I don’t smell Maze anymore, don’t feel the tears that are running over my face.
I see pieces of brain lying here and there.
10 minutes until the cops arrive.
JP cradling himself and crying.
Very different soundtrack now.
“My homeboy, my homeboy.”
No more gangsta talk.
I see pure evil.
“Where is the weapon?”, scream the cops.
Hell, if I know.
I never gave it a thought.
What weapon are they talking about?
The cops put me in the back of a police car.
Keep me there for 8 hours.
I see Jeremy’s mom arriving.
I see her fainting.
Days later I leave my apartment, Jeremy’s apartment, those places without a soul.
I keep the bloody T-shirt for a long time.
I don’t know why.
I think about my sister.
Shot in the head when selling drugs on the wrong turf.
Think about my mother.
OD’d on pills.
We never met.