Friday, October 29, 2021

I need a real connection. 

Let’s stop beating around the bush.
Let’s cease and desist from pretending we don’t know what our partners either need or desire or both.
Let’s stick the quill in the inkwell and write a proclamation that actually sticks.

I knew she was out of my league, but I was up for a challenge.
We’re all superheroes if we just give ourselves a break and stop coveting evil.
I was seventeen when his guitar first ambushed me. It was on University Circle and I’ve never been able to see that area as anything, but an acid flashback from that day forward.

Let’s stop pretending we could care less about our fellow humans and leave the contrary bullshit for another disposable day.
This age of clickbait and algorithms that go bump in the Sinatra night are doing no one any good, except for the dead eyed psychopath that stole the idea in the first place.
We don’t build anything in our country anymore and it’s to our great detriment. If we don’t stop the politicians sooner than later, we’ll all be dying in a ghetto of someone else’s rueful devising.

I desire a real, honest to goodness connection. Someone that isn’t looking for anything, but also knows they need something more than cold pizza and porn that whittles our consciousness down to Tiddlywinks.
The art will sustain me for as long as I’m above ground, but once I sink into a deep sleep all bets are off as a steppe wolf trains me in its sights and tears out my throat for all the indecision I wrestle with like morning prayers.
I was eighteen when Rep spoke the name Shepard to me and I don’t believe it’s any coincidence that his first name was also Jim or that he also played the guitar like an outlaw in need of forgiveness.

Charles Cicirella

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