"When you're lonely,
what do you do?"

"I take pictures
of my favorite places."

"But why do you
keep taking
pictures of the same spots?"

"Because sometimes,
I wish
you'd appear
in one of them."

BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY, THIS WILL BRING THE PERFECT PLAY OF EMOTIONS AND CAPTIVATIONS AND SURPRISING REACTIONS


I’ll have a car, a ride, a pony, stallion HAHA or not.
Altis.
Grey. Just the right size actually. Shouldn’t actually matter, but it does if you think about it.
Confused,
maybe a little since it’s out of a comfort zone.
Exciting,
I felt the chills on my neck just now lol.
I know I talk easy but my mind will be racing for sure.
I’ll think about the mood, the vibe, think about where things will be and why.
I’ll wonder why I’m there for sure.
And I’ll be a little good kinda scared.
But I will be growing, no matter.
That night will be evidence.

Too early to tell?
I wouldn’t know.
But I know I’ll have tried to get at least 1 friend to go. Or two.
Probably should invite them now.
But what if I DO lone wolf it?
She’ll get to see me being outgoing and not awkward with people. She’ll see me as fun to be with knowing he can get out of his skin to make something of himself where no one judged who he was
and where he came from
or how he spoke
and how he dressed.
Oh, thinking about it, it’s what I really want. Exploration, adventure, people.
Money won’t be an issue,
but if I’ll need a tissue
or buy a drink for you.

Which I don’t mind too.

Maybe you’d be thinking the same.
I’ve known this human as a real being for only 4 hours max. All that online talk, sure we get each other, sure we connect, but it’s the night where I become something to you for sure.
You’ll become something for me maybe, even.
Hopefully, and fearfully.

But tonight the night will surely be a new scene,
so on our guard we’ll be.
I don’t know if you do that,
and you don’t know if I go to these.
I don’t know anything about you
I’m scared.
I feel like I should.
But nonetheless,
It’s a process I want to be on.

I’ll think a dozen things
or two,
and overthink what I actually want to do.
I’ll roll with the punches and play along,
and I actually had a thought,
maybe even sing you a song.
This is too early to tell.
I’m usually like this, sorry. I attach myself to people easily,
and maybe this is good or bad,
Because we will connect and be on the same wavelength and talk freely without judgement from the lookers and nobodies.

...

And we might even flirt a little, arm touching, smiling wildly, trusting.
“That beer will do fine right about now :)”
“You sure you’re not gonna get drunk like the last time?”
“Trust me, of all the nights, this is one I want to be sober on. Plus, this won't be our last time :)”

...


But it just means that I’m exposed.
And my strength will dwindle, you see.
For you are as exactly in the position to react to my actions and expressions that will drive me towards exaggeration and exasperation, or painful expectations and realizations, as accordingly.
I cannot be defenseless.
There is so much of me that needs work on
And I know if you are everything I pictured you to be, then you are one of the only things that can destroy me.
So who really knows how the night will end?
Will a romantic be satisfied
or continue to be deprived of something he felt,
could be real…
...for a moment at least?
Will he ever so gracefully take hold and do away with it so beautifully
or will he be struck down once again,
ever so dutifully?

Well, we’ll know for sure, won’t we?

an isle
of wealth
reclusively habitat
if credible
view of
turkeys when
feeding themselves
upon trumps
and there
is coming
this inhabitated
third world
now arbitral
very watchful
of nature
where it
has delved.

A picture
                 slices a sliver of time
                                the traveller rewinds
and misses a beat

We can live life
                                          or
create timelines unlived

Robot replaces all unpleasantries

A picture,
cut from the reel of reality.
Nobody to miss the time,
between the jumpcuts.
Except, when you've had
a few too many

She’s wearing it again.
Hiding behind its porcelain green glare like some
righteous shield.
He wants so desperately to just peel it off her face
that he cuts off his own.

He’d lie and smile.
Show off his new mask and
Crack a joke about the broken pencil, a
pointless **** poor flavor of humor
reminding them where they went wrong.

She wouldn’t notice anyway;
Too excessively engaged with the
idea of a lonely low-priced studio.

He knows this, and remains perched in silence
like a mute bird. Staring off into space
and recounting mistakes;
Feeling the colorless
truth bleed from the corners of grooved eyes
down to the edges of blue lips
that he so regrets unveiling.

Knock knock
Who’s there?
The boy lying
in ambush with a camera,
pining to dig up shiny smiles of the past.
How they laughed at such jokes.

Up the stairs
she would climb
Into the attic
at night-time.
Her little legs
crawled up each stair
and soon she discovered
what was up there.
Antiques from all kinds
of things she had never seen.
The attic was quite dusty
as if it had never been cleaned.
She scattered through every box
and discovered a trunk.
She searched for a key
and found one under some junk.
She opened it to find a photo
of someone with her.
She looked closely.
The person was unfamiliar.

Perfection is easily attainable.
All you need is time.
Just build on a letter,
Then build on a line.

Take a deep breath,
Feeling utterly divine,
Offer up a thing of beauty.
It's what you had in mind.

By perfection I mean not completion
As the world may see it.
But when you hang a frame,
And see it's slight askew,
Though longer glancing at it,
You know it hangs true.