i watch other people and consider them and wonder often if they truly feel fulfilled with their lives, or if they’re merely repressing some visceral, intrinsic solitude to save face, to keep up appearances. are you not constantly at odds with a harrowingly banal loneliness? there are few individuals who talk about this shit and you know what, i think you’re very brave to do it. belying the conventions of social etiquette and order and congregation leaves one ripe for ostracization. 

then i go to wondering who’s rejecting who first. 

Sparingly. For whatever reason, that’s the world circulating today. 

amazing first (blind) (internet) date went amazing time last night. he has a lot of endearing qualities, one of which includes being born Irish (**fetish thing). we went to my local and he bought drinks and he bought various scotches for me to sample and we went to a strip club where we rated the girls, and we went to a 24 hr diner where he found out i was wearing crotchless nylons under my dress. it wasn’t on purpose all my other pantyhose are ripped. 

then he came back to my house and we laid down and i don’t really remember much. he didn’t stay. i was unclothed and throwing myself at him but it all just amounted to “no thank you” and when he left i was naked, waving goodbye at the door. Iin the morning i sent him a message saying i had fun. he wrote back saying he had fun too. i will probably never hear from him again.

The night comes and you don’t notice. you notice the blue looming gloam; then suddenly everything is dark and the floor does not look dirty anymore. 

Night draws. You are where you are right now and you are waiting for something. we are all waiting for something.

Tonight from my my window i see two bright stars next to the moon. They are not stars in fact, they are planets. Venus and Jupiter, deciding to indulge us. In ancient Rome, Jupiter is the god of sky and thunder, of wine and oak. The goddess Venus is the lover. She is feminine, beautiful, seductive, charming, fertile, and prosperous. She is the goddess of prostitutes, and transforms sexual vice to virtue. Incidentally, she also represents victory in war. It would be satisfying to swallow both planets. The roses of Porta Collina. 

Another day was spent in bed. Mostly crying. Palm fulls of sedatives were ingested for nerve calming, for wrath reducing. It did not work as intended - an escape, a freedom, a blank check - instead it just slowed my heart rate and beckoned sleep. I did not sleep. I closed my eyes but did not sleep. in some way, the ache of a sadness is comforting. 

I can say it was a waste of perfectly good benzodiazepines. 

People come and they go. You would think with age that you would get used to it. Not the case. You just learn to live without them. Time heals no wounds, it leaves only clotted scars. The wounds need confronting. They will always be yours, entirely yours. How many things can you say are entirely yours? Even love is shared, even unreciprocated love. Those wounds belong to you alone. Those, they are yours. Because you earned it. Because you survived it. To protect and nurse a wound is nearly to balance it.  

Again soon everything changes. I leave this home and return to a house. Again soon I visit another city. I vacate this town and plod another. And again soon, not so soon, but a soon enough future to leave everything. Sooner than it seems. And life goes on intrepidly. And I will only remember you in pieces. A glance. A gesture. An embrace.

You did it. You are you. You earned your wounds, you earned your love, you earned your sleep. The life …. just happens. Disappointments in others are inevitable. Always be prepared to be disappointed. You belong to no one. You earned your wounds. 

a little bit of open door 
open a little bit ajar
a jar that is hard to open
door that is hard to jar
hard to jar is opening a little bit

that’s okay, you can look outside
we’re all the same here,
no one is better than any one else.

except for them.

oil your grass
mow your fucking car
stick your head in an oven to see how long you last before suffocating

a day’s work is never done.