Another Day in Paradise

Billy Pedlow

Every morning, as I’m walking to work,
I fumble my cigarette and it falls into my eye
And blood pours out of it and skin swells up and the eyelids
Weld shut with crusty coagulations and I’m left partially
Blinded and throbbing with pain.
And so I light another cigarette, because the other one
Is drenched with blood and won’t spark,
And the walk is 20 minutes just to the subway.
 
Everyday on the subway I get raped.
By huge dudes, 3 or 4 men, they take turns with me,
And high five each other, 
I’m convinced that for them it is some kind of
Bonding experience.
I don’t know how they find me.
I’ve tried everything, but they always get me.
And rape me. And everyone just watches it happen.
 
When they are done with me, I limp to a deli
Where I get a bacon egg and cheese, and I get food poisoning
so I start throwing up all over myself.
As I am running out of the deli to vomit on the sidewalk,
I slip on some of the puke and fall and crack my head on the pavement.
And blood is just pouring out of my temple, and I lie there
Covered in vomit, blood, and cum, half blind and barely able to walk,
And I have a seizure, just spasming uncontrollably and foaming at the mouth
Shaking and covered in vomit, blood, and cum,
Half blind and barely able to walk
This happens to me every day…
 
Eventually I get up and dust myself off and limp into work, where
I’m an elevator operator, covered in shit blood and cum, nauseous and still
Shaking a bit, and every day the same guy is waiting for me to relieve him,
And he says “what’s up man,” and I say the same thing to him every day,
“another day in paradise.”
And everyday my boss catches me on the phone and gets really angry.
And I just sit there, waiting for the elevator to ring, covered in vomit, blood, and cum,
And feeling the guilt of letting my boss down, and the threat of financial insecurity.
When the elevator finally rings, I ride it too high and I get stuck.
And I have to call my boss, who is the last person I want to
Give bad news right now, and tell him that he has to go to the basement and fix the elevator.
And then 9/11 happens. A new one. Not in New York City, but another city.
And everyone is crying about it cause it’s so scary and tragic.
And they forget that I’m stuck in the elevator.
 
When the work day is finally done, I head to the subway and they’re waiting for me.
The rapists. And it seems like their fraternal bond has deepened.
As they’re raping me, my mind starts to drift off. I have an idea for the most
Beautiful poem ever written. But then I get raped some more and I forget it.
I forget my perfect idea. And I get gang raped twice a day. And my walk home is 20 minutes.
And my whole 20 minute walk home I’m trying to remember the idea.
And since I’m lost in thought my cigarette falls out of my hand,
And into my other eye. And blood is pouring out and I’m completely blind as my
Second eye welds shut. And its late.
So I get home and sit at my desk and start to write.
But I can’t sit still because of the rape or find the keys from the blindness.
And I start getting phone calls from women. And they are all angry.
They are telling me that a school shooting just happened.
And it was inspired by a poem I wrote the day before,
And so theyre all screaming at me, and so I scream back at them,
Not wanting to accept responsibility
For a school shooting I didn’t commit. But this just makes them angrier.
(At this point, I’m on the phone with 80 or 90 women)
And I forget what I was writing. So I lie down, covered in blood, cum, and vomit,
Feeling bad about the new 9/11, guilty about letting my boss down,
And vaguely responsible for a school shooting, and I start having the seizures,
Just tossing and turning and foaming at the mouth, and suddenly the crust that covers
My eyes breaks open to a flash of light that covers the whole world.
And my body is enveloped in warm air, and I see it, as if for the first time—
The sun!
 

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Billy Pedlow is the editor of the Burning Palace. You can find him on Instagram.