I’m not depressed, I’m just waiting for my fabulous life to appear!
The 2020 election is rapidly approaching. It’s my civic duty to participate in the discourse. Later this year, my TV will glow with debates between candidates. My phone will bloom … Continue reading Cheap Shots
I want you.
I crave you.
The thought of you permeates all the passive, dormant musings my brain lulls in its resting state.
You waft into my lazy Sunday dreams. I don’t summon you. You’re just there. My skin embraces your notion like bees to pollen, like its my cell’s job to marinate in the thought of you.
I want you to want me.
Like a little girl begging her dad not to leave, I want you.
I want you like water in a dessert.
But I don’t think you want you.
That’s the problem.
You have to want you before you want me.
I’m asking a flight risk to stay on the ground, and he doesn’t know how to land.
He has to learn to land first.
You can’t build a home if you’re still outside of yourself
In the sky.
How strange it is that before they were events, it was just a place?
Three Mile Island
A land becomes an event– synonymous with time more than its coordinates.
Names are like this too.
Some, I can never wash out of my mouth, never unhear.
Some names become what happened to us more than they are names. They never go back to people, all I hear is the impact.
We inherit the way we perceive our bodies. We chose to raise the next generation that way.
Unless you understand what Pride means.