I had to ask. I knew the answer before I asked, but I had to ask. And it's okay. It's all really okay. Believe me, because I do.
People see what they like. I just keep my step.
I had that dream again. Angry with the glue sealing my lips. Hot plastic slipping out. No idea what I’m missing because when I see 70, I see a beach with a cold wind up its spine. Anyway, What are you up to?
The mattress, the floor: tangled in linear progression. The corners, sharp and cold. Fingers spread, you know? The feeling. How's that for temptation?
For that is what bodies wanted: to come to rest. To know no more.
Dead astronauts reads like someone is telling you their fever dream and its interpretation simultaneously in the same eerie voice.
It slowly tingles, drifting upwards - periphery caving in - downtown skyline blending. Fuck, I miss your dumb ass. Same kind of focus, that narrowed my sight. Beside ourselves with laughter, beside each other, friend.
Last year, I challenged readers and myself to create a six-word-summary of the year. I think I’ll keep the tradition.
Tumultuous change and triumphant movement onward.
All the best in your new year.
timeless observation decks,
for things -
people really -
over and over.
I don’t understand
or pretend not to
for the sake
of a plastic beach
Reworking the data,
and updating the algorithm
from a tulip glass.
Making it absolutely nowhere.
Still, the water runs;
the purple coats
cry on the corner,
a blue Porsche
whatever you say,
Give the people what they want
and take only what you need.
Look, this dreamer, in an age lacking peace. Contests staring with the wall. An ostrich to the races; a warm, drumming static and beeping. Ambivalent, like any decent son should be.