blah blah blah. i can't hear you. what'd you say?

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there is an underpass on 15th avenue in downtown seattle, and the sidewalk beneath it is the venue of a 2 AM a capella concert, every day. like clockwork, the same grungy looking man belts his heart out like an opera singer, without so much as a back up melody. you just know you can count on him. we all need someone like that, whether or not they're intimately involved in our lives or they barely touch it. it doesn't matter that my eyes are watery more often than not these days, or that i get my hopes up just to have them deflated 10 minutes before the moment they've been waiting for. because everything in my mind is so tumultuous and maybe that sounds too much like an excuse to be valid but it doesn’t even matter right now. perhaps some foolish idea that you know, i had that man under the bridge that'd be there even when i forgot.

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i can never get close enough. i want to suffocate in his arms, have my lungs collapse so i can breathe him in like air.

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she speaks to me in a narrative structure reminscent to an all spaghetti western where ok corrals and ten gallon hats are prevalent. she has the steady hand of john wayne and the keen eye of annie oakley. but still, when it comes to men i say she’s shooting nothing but blanks.

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i am the seedless pumpkin you left out on the front porch in the cold morning sun to rot simply because you had completely forgotten about me. all i want is for you to carve me inside and out. to make me feel at the least bit beautiful for just this instant so i won't be entirely misplaced in your memory. all i want is for to hold me in your tired arms when reasoning gives way to those interminable doubts. if only i had just that one particular chance of a lifetime i'd carve your pretty eyes out to make them hollow just like mine.

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you tell me your life story without saying a word. you tell me, because our stories are the same. no one can deny our connection.

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