Thursday, December 24, 2020


I don’t know her
She doesn’t even follow me
Still there’s something about her tweets that keeps me coming back for more introspection

I guess there are people on Twitter that only want to fuck, whatever that means, but that’s just not me because I’d so much prefer a real connection with a real human being
Shay cuts her wrists and bleeds into her tweets and that kind of anguish must be rewarded, never ignored
Sometimes when losing my mind I think Shay might be the mountain I’d desire to climb if I wasn’t afraid of heights and the film Vertigo didn’t haunt my waking dreams like Tickle Me Elmo on a seven day bender

I’m new here
No, really I am
I’m only actually here to hang up my radio show like a trench coat to a rusty nail and maybe to find someone who isn’t afraid to admit they’re also afraid

Lost in the consonants and vowels of her fleshy alabaster subtext I bet knowing her would be like wrestling an alligator while wearing only your paid for smile
I know I’m punching above my weight and since Covid I’ve lost over 21 pounds and gained, I pray, not even half of that back
Still there’s something about her mysterious prose that keeps me both hungry and starving for direction.

Charles Cicirella

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