Donkey, by Hovey Li

  • I have a strange attachment to the word “donkey”. It’s not even the animal I am interested in. Just the word is attached like a donkey tail is attached to empty air. “Think of a random word, Hovey” someone would say, and the donkey tail would dangle and tickle my brain, daring me to say the word. I’d resist and say something else, but just because I ignore it does not mean it does not exist.
  • Pen in hand, paper below. Donkey is all that’s wrote. Equus Asinus. The scientific name. It’s where “ass” comes from.
  • To call it heartbreak, is hilarious. It’s funny, because it’s so cheesy, so unreal. It exists only in movies and books, right? Heartbreak is not a real thing, is it? I’m such an asshole.
  • There is a strange resemblance. “Donkey” and “monkey” share the same endings, though different beginnings. I care not for monkeys, just donkeys. The first three letters of “donkey” is “don”. “Don” as in “lord”, the honorific for noblemen of Iberia, Italy, and Latin America.
  • Assholes. Big gaping assholes. It’s right there on my screen. I’m watching the news.
  • Who knew she could be such a wolf. Planning, formulating, hunting. Making me say such ridiculous things. I knew the answer, I didn’t have to say it. It could have remained a sweet thought, but now it’s a bitter memory.
  • Today I wrote “donkey” in the train. I can see the world go by. A blur. The donkey is but a blur, but I can see the donkey with clarity. If I just concentrate on the donkey.
  • Today I wrote “Hovey”. See the resemblance? Maybe I am obsessed with “donkey” only because my secret obsession is actually with me. It’s a reflection of my vanity and narcissism, but it also makes plenty of sense. I think me. I know me. I care me. I engage in intimate relations. With. Me.
  • When a person loses their limb. They can’t feel the pain, due to the adrenaline. They scream at the unreal scene before them. The real pain begins in the hospital when they can feel it.
  • Saw a donkey today. Actually I saw a horse. A horse disguised as a donkey.
  • Made my first confession. And received my first rejection. I opened a notebook, drew a circle, and wrote donkey within this circle.
  • Where is the liver? Where are the donkeys? Where am I? I think. I think I am sick. I am really sick. So and very, sick. I am dying, the question is not when, but how.
  • The last three words of donkey is “key” as in the key to the door. If you rearrange it, it becomes “kye” as in the character I created in my youth.
  • Don Kye
  • Perhaps it is me; I am about “donkey”. Have I ever truly thought how others felt? Do I really live in a plane of existence where others live too? I am a selfish dumbass.
  • At night there are a couple of obnoxious folk hawing and braying. They never seem to shut up nor care for the people sleeping in the buildings around them. Jackasses.
  • Crap. Donkey crap. I can smell it, but it’s actually horse shit. Horse shit disguised as donkey crap.
  • Sometimes I walk down the hall, and I look at the walls in my peripheral vision. And once I reach the end I’d like to look back, and then I would walk back, because I can’t stay there forever.

-Hovey Li

Featured in Vol. 3 Iss. 3
Featured in Vol. 3 Iss. 3
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