hi. i’d say hello again, but it wouldn’t be saying hi to the you i pretend to know. it would be a greeting to a new version of the old illusion, manifest of my imagination. selfish.

did i create you?

in whose image.

it can’t be of mine if i have yet to find myself.

images are now examples of the past, a purity lost. these days i imagine how that image may age, how a day is coming that i might short circuit my expecation, uncover imperfection, fall for the shame we hide from in mirrors. do i hide from you when humanity is the worst of me? hide from the fragility of being special to someone who is soon to shatter that romanticism. tolerate the disgust because that dimple sits just right. so right. i forget... the day i hope for is the end of perfection, the end of my secret.

connection in secure abstraction.

so the death of that becomes me, and i crave to be destroyed.

i’m compelled to reveal my most pathetic self, someone to find it, yet never know it is me. peek at vulnerability, believe i am the best and worst you’ve seen. a compulsory monstrosity. rabid. i am feral till you find me.

remember: all of that still isn’t me.

can i be anonymous? authentically. did you really think you knew me? get to know me, without knowing it is me.

forget: if i am capable of sharing bliss, i could just as quickly—fallen—become your next regret.

why do you get to see this? how did you find it? maybe it wanted you. yes… you. to see the ugly unattractive bits, and love it even more. love that disgust. savor a decaying ego. the rotten stench of a soul carving from the inside, craving the outside, to see, to be free. watch the broken reflection poke around in self inflicted wounds, bleed, feel repulsed that you want to lick that gushing truth. sights we can’t avoid. hate that you love it… too

do i love? you? love how love makes me self destruct. anticipation obsession passion confession rejection aggression depression. an ending. does the story make it love…

indulge. i am the culmination of too much. push. how many buttons separate love and lust?

some things, afraid, we cannot look away.

is that something i could share?

i’ve already said too much. too early. i’ll never know enough. i’ll never know to stop. tell myself again. slap my head. stupid you.

maybe just with you.

i want that image to haunt the blankness of the moments we hide from. i want just one person to feel the disease, like i do, and say yes i’m hiding too. i hide until tomorrow, always. do your fears define you… too?

i want i want i want. and all i really want is for our want to be the same.

what a stupid thing for us humans to do.

to be cryptic. to test. to step a foot, float past ravine’s ledge. una laguna debajo. sands. the kind so shockingly warm.

knowing this message could not be taken back.

remembering a date they didn’t know they might have made. prophecies. one year from then, now.

meet me at the top.

overlooking the world.

make our temple that hill.

i’ll be at the peak with the sun the same.

wondering if anyone else is higher than you.

home is meant to be.

maybe Mondays really are a beginning.

we kind find it there together.