Free to write?
Am I truly free to write? Because just when I feel like that might be true, there’s someone else to remind me that indeed, it’s not. I went under cover to please her. And it was you she used to convince me that this was necessary. Didn’t want to give the wrong impression. Wrong impression, indeed. There’s been a lot of that going around. Wrong impressions. Now I am...
There’s not a lot going on. When I sign in there is a dull hum and only a handful of updates. Technology is never silent. Never ever. And when I sleep I need white noise. It must move from side to side, oscillate or pulse like a breathing being. Once I realized what you were, I tried to make you something else. It’s ok. I did that with myself as well. I dose myself to keep...
here it is that moment of truth how boring only this time I know that’s not one of them six now a nice even number even with us thrown in is eight so everything should be coming up roses I feel like I’ve been hit in the chest with an anvil no the anvil is gone it left an evil mark on me there are no fingers to sew me up they are all afraid to touch me I’m an...
Think about honking if you like conceptual art.– A bumper sticker (via chansen) I’m thinking, brilliant.
Out of Sync
I suppose this is ironic. That you have found me without my meaning to have left any trail. Here I am now, at the edge of an abyss, peering down, eerily calm. I know where this is going, and I suppose it’s telling that I don’t believe that a few nights out on the town with little money will do anything at all to stem the tide of my transformation. I will have emerged from my chrysalis...