yesnothankyou

I can’t sleep unless I take medication. I don’t write much without nicotine. I have a tendency to skip meals without thinking about it. I still rely on some of my vices, I guess. I've carved them into something soft for me though, small souvenirs, I've figured out how to do that over the last decade. I quit smoking eight years ago, it was a real good run. I'm a little shady. I close my eyes in the sunlight and smile like I was made for it, wondering what it means when these things sound sad but none of them really are to me. I think about intentions and compulsions, the things you use to face all the chasms with. If you knew where to look but called it an accident, doesn't that make you a liar? I'm just trying to be honest. I bet I could find other things. It could happen like a thunderclap, an exclamation point, an audible confetti. all this machinery exhausts and enthralls me. I used to mix up abbreviations with observations and then I couldn't tell what was real anymore, it all got so muddled. I thought I needed to construct definitions for things that felt too big to name and sometimes I liked it, but I don't want to do that anymore. I think it can all just be whatever it is if I let it. I'll tell it like I want to. A flare of frustration, the mythos keeps cartwheeling, the clocks keep turning. I remember it right and sigh, grateful. All of it's a romance if the narrative's big enough. What's that chess move that's a way to capture but only using pawns? I looked it up: en passant. It's like that. I'm still sitting on the brick outside when I think about this, my hands tucked beneath my thighs. With my eyes closed the sun is like a dark orange. Juice drips. Our neighbors are playing music down the street, real loud, I can feel it somewhere in my chest or my face or my knees. I've been talking with some people I used to be friends with a long time ago and I don't know why really. I don't think about reasons a whole lot, I quit all that finally. Maybe I'll start again, like with the nicotine, and that'll be fine. I like getting to know them as strangers again. twisting time is a forgery you do with your hands. interactions and ampersands, culling secrets if you're good at it. I can be a little good at it. It rained earlier and there's this unseasonably strong humidity. Dylan says he can't see me through my big hair and I smile, say sorry. "I like your hair when it's big." Yeah, me too.