A Collection of Spectacles


This type of anger isn’t proper. A very specific type of human conundrum. The plight of being human is that romantically, I can’t be with everyone. I’m wrestling with monogamy, always. The idea, putting all feelings towards only one doesn’t come naturally. It seems to explode out of everything irrational. Who would ever put up with the alternative though? When some people are concerned, I hate anyone else they touch. Frustration’s something I’ve never dealt with before. In the middle, with the sounds pelting my ear  I thought, “I don’t have a job, I don’t have anything. Who cares if my lip bleeds?” I’ve become more careless there. Music has more meaning then. I’m employed now, happy, but soon I’ll feel an alternate form of discontent. A wine corkscrew costs seven dollars across the street. Now, my eyes are fluttering.

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