By Ross Gardiner
(“You need to get off Facebook”).


I can't.
I can’t stay in Kathmandu anymore.
I can’t live without hot water.
I can’t eat the same brown slop that you can.
I can’t feel sad that we’ll probably 
never meet again.
I can’t see anything other than bricks and 
tourists at your temple.
I can’t read books that offer herbal advice.
I can’t keep smiling if I don’t feel like it.
I can’t make a dreamcatcher from sticks I collected at the side of the road.
I can’t believe in energy.
I can’t be bothered to email you, but write it down anyway.
I can’t ignore the fact that too many drugs have fucked your head up.
I can’t wear clothes that would look ridiculous at home.
I can’t say words in the native language to people who 
speak the same language as me.
I can’t remember your name man.
I can’t see Pepsi as a luxury.
I can’t stand the smell of the hash you bought from your “friend” on the street.
I can’t ‘wait a minute’ for gmail to load.
I can’t grow a beard of cotton and hair of rope.
I can’t help but feel that you don’t even believe yourself.
I can’t wipe my arse and eat with same pair of hands.
I can’t listen to your tabla drum without clenching my teeth.
I can’t beat you.
I can’t join you.
I can’t stand you.
I can’t understand you.
I can't work out what "Om" is.
I can't bring myself to get a Sanskrit tattoo.
I can't fall in love with a place that doesn't love me.
I can't drink the water.
I can't sleep.
I can't give money to deformed people who touch my feet.
I can't count the number of cigarettes I smoked today.
I can't depend on anyone but myself.
I can’t write poetry, but this isn’t poetry, it’s one big complaint.
I can’t find a single endearing thing to say.
I can’t trust his eyes.
I can’t keep trawling my music collection hoping to find something new.
I can’t keep this up much longer.
I can’t stay awake anymore.
I can’t believe it’s only 4.39am.
I can’t see the Manchester United goals until I get to Seoul.
I can’t believe it’s almost over.
I can’t wait until tomorrow.
I can’t help but think it might already be here.
I can’t buy any souvenirs because I don’t really want to 
remember much of this.
I can’t stop wanting to punch you in the nose
if you beep that FUCKING horn at me again.
I can’t drink because I’m on antibiotics.
I can’t write my way out of the trench Kathmandu threw me into.
I can’t pretend that this is me.
I can’t get my last rabies injection.
I can’t be bothered to rewrite this.
I can’t wait to see you again,
South Korea.