Brain won't rest. Mental marathon runner. Meds don't work. Alcohol doesn't work. Drugs don't work. Second chances. Third chances. Seven, eight, nine chances. Reruns of the same shitty show. Taken out and played with like an old toy that provides some sort of fucked up nostalgic comfort. Time to collect dust again.
Staring into a digital void, hoping my signal has been reached. Signs of love on life support. Unplug me and watch the batteries die. They don't recharge.
As of this writing, my 89 year-old grandmother is in her bed and, if what the doctors told us is true, has between two weeks to a few months left to live. The news isn't quite a shock, as she's had two lengthy stays at the hospital since last October, but that doesn't make it … Continue reading Processing Death
False perceptions. Digital realities. The public is unaware, yet they are too awash with impatience. They see manufactured bliss, temporary beauty. They buy what you're selling vi@ "likes". All they want to do is fuck. Intimacy is a foreign concept, a tablet of hieroglyphics lost in translation, yet they could decipher the familiar image of … Continue reading #
To those who know me well, it's no secret that I keep--or as this piece will soon tell you, kept--a score of possessions from my childhood. As an adult, I still have a tendency to save and hold onto just about anything, impractical or otherwise. I've tried my best to find a reason as to … Continue reading Letting Go