The Truest True, or, Fingertips Upon Cold Glass

This evening I sat in a lecture that made me yawn. Yes, it was interesting, but I will admit that I was more interested in pinning various of the Zoom attendees little video squares so that I could get a better look at the posters on the walls in their bedrooms. 

I've been feeling back where I need to be as of late. Something between books and brothels, daring and daydreaming. It feels good. All while the world is burning, but with so many of us maintaining our hands firmly fixed to the love that is inherent in struggle.

 

be well; be loved,

 

k. 

 

The Contraption You Bought to Build Your Jawline

 

 Ill-fitting latex

too thick leather gloves (they remind me of someone's mother)

over-quoting Sartre (does he need to be quoted at all?)

and the misunderstanding of Stoicism 

when what is really happening 

is the simple 

losing 

battle 

of emotional regulation.

I am tired of smiles that have too much gum

and unintelligent contradictions

like bosses who cry

and bottoms 

you don't like to be told 

what to do.