brokenheart

Not An April Fool

You were once the unsuspecting doorway to my better life, an unobstructed threshold across which barriers of social and economic consideration became somehow less meaningful, allowing me a whispered moment to be better than I was, alone.  And I wanted so desperately to live out my whole life in that one moment, buffered and insulated from an unsympathetic world not yet understanding, safe in the warmth of your sophic, earnest embrace, my soul soothed by the lightest delight of your delicate hand. I would have followed you to the ends of time, unquestioningly.  I would have sacrificed daily at the altar of your heart, scrupulously.  I would have carried the load of our two souls- yours tattooed indelibly upon mine, the very tapestry of our love, …

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typer

Day: WhatTheFuckEver

I am the last thing that the infected City of Wayne needs on this dreary quagmire of another gloomy quarantined night, supposedly in the last week of isolation– but that is probably just another lie.  I am the last thing that this town, or any of its people, needs.  Or even wants.  Because hey, who really gives a shit that there is another rapidly aging cliché, sitting cross-legged in front of an antique, banging out pointless words simply because they sound good in his head, while all around him the smoke chokes and tickles, washed away only by a sea of whiskey and pretty white ovals neatly stamped with their own devil’s mark, striking out the dosage and measuring up the man. But the man, he …

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Day 10

It is a struggle to find inspiration in a world without touch.  It is even more difficult to face the isolation of a life without love.  It makes the echoing emptiness just that much more claustrophobic, the passing hours that much more hollow and depressing.  The abandonment presses in hard and it festers here, polluting my thoughts and infecting my creativity, virulently.  It defines my newly mandated and officially locked-down day and I find myself dissolving slowly, and unapologetically, into that definition. It isn’t like I have never known love.  I have loved for almost the whole of my supposedly content and productive adult life.  And, in the lumbering wheeze of another overnight hour passing, it occurs to me that maybe that has been my underlying …

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gasmask

Keep Calm and Keep Making Art

  Somewhere along the line we became lazy, our real world transforming into a living, breathing caricature of how the rest of the world once saw us, just a short time ago.  We became fat.  We became complacent.  We did not really work, or struggle, like the all the other great bootstrapy generations before us because we always figured that there would be time for that nonsense later.   We thought there would be time to finally grow up.  Time to figure it all out.  Time to wrap our heads around the workings of this selfishly twisted world in all its polluted convenience.  And then, before we knew it, a scary little virus appeared and we had suddenly run all out of later.  And maybe quite possibly time.  …

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brokenheart

Broken skyline, which way to love land?

It is the worst of times before the best of times, only I don’t think that the best times are even possible anymore.  I watch daily through my quarantined window as outside my city burns and goes dark.  Everywhere people are running scared, stockpiling greed to feed their fears.  The lines of society get more and more blurry with each passing day, leaving us isolated in our mutual collapse.  But all I can do is think about her. Rome may very well be burning, the flames encroaching closer each day.  The days of bread and games are fast fading in the rear-view mirror of now idle SUVs, ghostly reminders of what we once held, though we never quite realized just how tenuous the grip.  There are …

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