Strawberry Fields (for "Midcult")

It’s where you are. It's where I’ll be someday.

The ceiling is breathing and I am on fire.

I rip off my clothes on a brisk L.A. evening, safely shuttered inside my studio apartment with two boxes of cheese pizza and a pink can of Monster Energy Ultra Strawberry Dreams.

In my underwear, I watch the soft inhales and exhales above my bed until the stucco coughs up her slender body, perfectly still. She doesn’t wave hi. Little by little, she withers away into bones.

I always knew she was pretty underneath her flesh. Pretty on the outside. Pretty on the inside.

I reach up, but she’s gone. It’s just a matter of seconds. Or minutes. I can’t remember. The infinite spiral of time paused just long enough for me to watch her delicate imaginary body turn to imaginary ash.

And then I am left yearning, in shades of blue and green.

When we put her inside the ground, I screamed so hard I got sucked into a black hole. Sometimes, I want to scream forever. Instead, in that moment, through my yearning, I smile, barely detectable.

If you go chasing rabbits, you are going to fall. Strawberry fields forever. It’s where I’ll be someday. Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.

Published in Midcult Print Issue 2 (12-17-25)