How does it feel to fly?

Well, I can only imagine. But wouldn't you feel alone in the sky?

But I really think it's fun. Don't you think so, too?

I do, but wouldn't it be better to fly with someone?

With whom?

With someone you cherish.

It's a bit sappy. I don't like it.

Why not?

Just because.

You really have a weird sense of logic.

I don't need your opinion.

We shouldn't even be talking about this. We're grown-ups.

Is that so? But I really think this is a better topic than a typical topic adults talk about.

Like what?

Like politics, education, climate change, and whatnot.

But those are good topics. And you will learn a lot from them.

I know, but it's so routinary and repetitive. It's becoming a bother and
they're kind of boring.

Well, what do you want to talk about?

Something out of the ordinary.

And you think a topic about flying is "out of the ordinary?"

Yes, I do.

How so?

Well, because it is.

Why won't you give me a straight answer?

Well you see, in a conversation such as this, the answer lies on your own understanding. I can't give you an answer because I don't want to impose on you my own understanding. You have to find it on your own.

That's some deep ****.

But I'm not kidding. You see, we think of such conversations as petty or inconvenient. But by conversing with this kind of topic, we can think and imagine further. Typical adult-topics may be seen as something worth talking about, well, I don't digress, really. It's just that, what you say is very limited. It does not give you any chance to make your mind work. What you say is what you know. But the conversation we just held, made us ask, react, think freely, imagine, and moreover, it didn't restrict us. What you think of as petty and childish may be really something extraordinary.

You really are unpredictable, you know that? I didn't think you would be able to think up of such answer.

Well, I tried.

Show-off.

Well, that, I digress with.

Awkward pause
A bird drones on in the background
Unaware
You try to meet my eyes
Don’t bother
This life is just boredom trying to transcend itself
Someone somewhere lies on the ground
Traffic picks up
Voices in the crowd align with the bustle of the city
They fade into insignificance
Too loud to be heard
I comment
I stop halfway
Words elude words
Connections wither
A sprawled empty sentence meanders half hearted out of existence
Frustration tastes a lot like the memory of past relationships
I have noticed
So many people just want to be affirmed
They speak to be heard
Exist to be noticed
You’ve been repeating that sentence since the beginning of the year
A mockingbird singing at a broken mirror
**** the jays
Dissenters, right-wing *******
Yeah, yeah, ***** them, hella
Swallows the choir
It’s disgusting
Regurgitation has become the new culture
I realise I haven’t talked for a minute
You try to meet my eyes
Sorry
There are too many voices here
Repetitious wavelengths cascading into negative space
It’s all white noise
I don’t care about the weather
The whole city can drain into the gutters for all I care
It’d be better that way
Look there
There’s that homeless guy who has no one left
Family or friends
Let’s invite him to the house
He hasn’t read anything in years
Maybe he has something worthwhile to say

We need to talk

He said as I sipped wine in a bath tub
all while being watched by my cat
after a good work day
Feet don't hurt
at all.
Purring.

We really don't.

The only proper way to be a conversationalist is to convince yourself that you’re boring. If you can strip back the hard shell of the ego, and look down on yourself from the eyes of an apathetic God, you will likely (and hopefully) see just how boring you really are. It isn’t a sin to be boring, in fact there are many advantages to honest self-depreciation.

The main advantage, is the way you approach a conversation. “Interesting” people find it difficult to silence the affected score-keeper that dominates their internal dialogue and ruins any chance of an honest and engaged conversation. It is the voice that reminds you to show interest with your body language, and keep a dumb happy gaze laser pointed into their eyes. This dialogue is obsessed with authenticity and genuine conversation, and therefore a natural sociopath.

Luckily, you are the stunning definition of boredom, an extracted dictionary cut-out of un-interesting, and nobody could possibly give a rats-*** what you have to think—least of all the Voice that controls the inner-dialogue. That Voice has packed it up to find a more interesting vessel…maybe the person standing across from you in conversation. 


Because you are so boring, and they are the Oxford personification of intellect and fascination, you should pay careful attention to what they say—no time to worry about how they’re perceiving your reaction to whatever it is they’re saying. You are too busy to notice what sort of body language you may or may not be using to validate their half of the conversation. Instead, your time is spent carefully hanging on their every word, digesting it and projecting the whole bit into a colourful scene in your imagination. Instead, you’re too lost in the excitement of their infinitely more interesting life and impossible wealth of knowledge offered to you with each word that they speak. Instead, you are actually listening to the words that come out of their mouth and not the ones that speak to you from the inside of your own mind.

This is what it means to be in conversation. This was the point of our social nature. And in a world of needy social-media junkies grabbing at the cuffs of potential ‘followers’ and ‘likes’ and trendy passer-by’s, the last thing anyone needs is the high-pitched whine of another “interesting” millennial.

Lucky for you, you boring sack of yawning sloths, that you aren’t interesting too.

She had a tongue that could open a wine bottle.
Razor-sharp articulation.
A fine art, some might say.
Living sentences on a knifes-edge.
It started in a unblunted manner,
The force hit smacked splintered minds like a hammer.
Honed in cuspate motions,
Incisively smashing the nail on the head.

She wasn’t wrong often.
Vivacious wit vivid oscillating witch,
some might say.
Not I.
I followed in the downstream of her resonance.
A quivering wreck,
soaked from head to toe in her libretto.

She marched in stilettos,
locomotive tip-toe motion,
devotion to the traverse.
Deviating as s he ambulated across lurid cobbled paths.
How she manages, alas.
Evades my comprehension.

She had this brunt agitation,
as if,
she couldn’t hear the words you say to her.
Maybe it was her nescient nature.
A think naive conversant,
If only it was that simple.
Those dimples on her cheeks were like craters in the moon.
That cheesy laugh fractures.

She escaped from Alcatraz,
Caught only by the dereliction,
of her minds conviction.
Infamy lapsed,
as she collapsed in a pretzel of marvellous contortion.
She radiantly turned to stone,
a statuesque stanza.
Cloned in allure,
that never found answers she was looking for.

I was sitting down alone
as the winter gleamed
a couple came to ask me
can we sit beside you?
Nothing between us was said
and so sit down they did.

Are you ready for some Christmas cheer?
I hear them sing to me
And normally I would
but this year was going differently.
I have no time for Christmas cheer
there’s far too much to fear.

What about your wish
for I’m sure it’s very real.
A gift annually delivered  
to all whom you choose.
From each other we received
five golden rings.

I’m afraid my hands are bare
I have no gifts to give.
and I can’t believe in dreams
when there’s now stars to see.

Don’t you believe in miracles
in this time of year?
A chance to hope as it ends
for tomorrow to begin.

With a sigh I replied
that I didn’t yesterday
though now that I see
the sparks between you
now I too believe.

They were satisfied
and finally let me be
I was silent for a moment
then I began to cry
I began to cry at Christmas time.

See from a far
Reunited under the stars
Sharing our own stories
Twisted with different memories

The feeling of ecstasy
With each others company
It feels good
To have this mood

The sun will soon rise
Together with our mind so wise
But one thing is for sure, we'll be friends
In a day that never ends

you know nothing's okay
when half your chats end in meaningless okays
when 'okay' is your involuntary response to the questions that aren't asked
to the questions that pierce in the form of pitiful looks
to the questions that mean well
to the questions that only mean to tell
you that hey - your life is messed up and you need to get okay.
like I even know what that means.
okay.
who's been okay lately, really?
*not i.