A Collection of Spectacles


i’m pretty bored.


lovely, don’t worry

every thing you want you’ll have

know that i miss you

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to anyone.

What’s something you wish you could change about yourself?

What’s your favorite lie to tell?

(i “borrowed” the last one but that’s okay, right?)

spit it out. or keep it inside.

either is fine.


claire claire. eclair. i wrote you a haiku. !

when the vibrant sun

reaches your window, realize

letting go is fine


about the person in the room with you as you read this. or about yourself. or about your pet. or anything. you know. i’m being pushy.

lunar eclipse tonight – 10:01  8:43? i’ll keep looking.

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i stumbled towards my tv to change the channel and was stopped short.

i found a dead mouse

on the ground and next to it were its intestines (lined up perfectly) and next to that was soho purring contently.

did she slit it open? is that why everything that should be inside is sprawled out so neatly?

currently: the lazy existentialist.

did she slit it vertically or across?

i’m not willing to change. i’m can’t give much back. not yet.

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on friday, while lying there (pathetically inebriated), all i could ask was, “do you feel anything yet? YET?”  

 i ask eliot how everything ends. 

“Not with a bang but a whimper.”  

(          …                                     )

i’d rather witness a quiet implosion anyway.  

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