The Insomniac Letters, pt. 5
sleep, ——————- i wish you’d come wash them away, these fragmented thoughts who leave my desktop asunder with half typed pages. ——————— untitled 3, 4, 5… ——————— they come while you are absent; bits of ideas and stories who will never make it off the screen....
All You Ever
I’m at the bar we used to go to, tumbling my ice and waiting for you. I couldn’t tell you why the fuck I’m here. The ghost of your smile has been chasing me for days and the last thing I need is to fall underneath it again. “Need another?” the bartender asks. “Double.” Every time the door opens and it isn’t you, I think about leaving. Each...
I’m not sure how to respond. When I first read the blast, my body went through several different phases: shock, horror, amusement, disbelief. My jaw gaped and an odd, reverberated laugh came through. All I could do was turn to my friend and ask: “What??” And then: “Is my face, like, completely fucking purple?” For what I was facing, was this: The above image...
The streets shine dark with things you wanted but couldn’t have, and as you stare through a windshield at the lights passing by nothing ever seemed real. Except for her. She was real. And you watched her float away, carelessly into the clouds like a lost balloon. “Where are you going?” “The moon,” she replied. “Come with me.” “Silly...
The Insomniac Letters, pt. 4
sleep, ———— i met your new best friend. his name is Scotch.
Filthadelphia (pt. 1)
Philly. That gritty, grungy city. Something about it always turned my head down, always made me want to tell it to fuck off. Sitting on the crest of the highway it sat like a bouncer over my suburb, daring us small town folk to take a swing. For 18 years, I watched it sneer. Driving the Betsy Ross Bridge always felt like descending into the mouth of some beast; it’s cabled fangs...
The Insomniac Letters, pt. 3
sleep, ———- tonight, it’s not your fault. ———- it was that temptress coffee. ———- she knew of my weakened caffeine immunity, how one sip after dark would barrel me through it for hours. yet still she sang her siren song, steamy and rich. with one drop of artificially sweetened elixir, she took you from me. ...
Declined. “I run one more time…” Declined. “Maybe the machine…” Declined. “One more…” I feel the pink in my cheeks congealing to purple and I want to yank my card away and yell: “Can’t you fucking see I’m broke?! Why are you rubbing it in with this charade?! Why??” But I don’t. I need the small...
Nowhere, I guess. (one)
This, is a short I fully intend on expanding. But for now, an excerpt. ———————————————————————————— You’re talking to me in earnest, being jovial and polite, but I’m not listening. I’m nodding my head...
The Twilight Envy
I always visit the cheap book section of stores. Target, Wal-Mart, CVS - it doesn’t matter where, they’re all the same. I’m not looking for books to read, though. It’s more like I’m gawking at books I can’t believe people actually read. With a twinge of self-loathing, I pick up paperbacks with flimsy covers and gaudy gold print, the authors name mocking me from its perch beneath picturesque...
The Insomniac Letters, pt. 2
sleep, ————- i’d like to pose a question: why polish my day, but not my night? with zombie like precision, my feet drug heavy with the weight of your presence. all i could think was, “i can’t wait for bed,” expecting you to be awaiting my arrival. ————— but you stood me up. again. ...
It’s what the world says to you that matters.