/* writer *//* designer *//* filmmaker */
Wide eyed mother fuckers all up in this.
it takes three full revolutions to realize that
the person you fell in love with genuinely
likes zac brown band and taking you back
to a place, from years ago, where some
infant put a pillow over your face and sat.
i’ve already gone through the bargaining,
sold my soul on etsy for 30 swiss francs,
bought a one way ticket to your insides
and later regretted my transactions, the
first time i gave myself completely to you.
i possess a small amount of self-respect,
but i often pretend that the little i have left
is stored away on some overheated planet,
a sauna world where unicellular creatures
guard the memories we aren’t able to keep.
it’s a comforting thought, the distance i’ve
established between your persistence and
my weakness—it’s become hard to move on
when all i ever do is masturbate to your clothes,
your collared shirts and worn out running shoes.