I find myself flocking to the inbox of someone new nearly every day— what is it about constant correspondence I crave so much? It is the skeleton of intimacy, the shavings of human interaction  and interconnectivity  and somehow I’ve duped myself  into believing  that it is enough for me. 


She goes to sleep with the illusion  of human connection  glowing from her TV  and spends her days watching people in a box as if real people she could hug and touch  were only a thing of museums  and she had to pay  just to get in, because if she can’t rely  on her loved…


I keep looking for my answers  in someone else, I know no one can  solve me  the human heart is not secretly disguised as a Rubik’s cube (if only) so why do I keep on throwing myself out there only to reel myself back in as if loneliness navigating purpose  were something worth calculating  but…

Friday Nights

Friday nights  are characterized  by the same kind of loneliness  that encumbered me when you fell asleep on the couch every night.


I am tired of a restlessness  so deep in my bones  I can feel it in  my molecules, a restlessness marked by this incessant need to find my face light up from my cell phone screen, to listen to the voices  of people on TV to chip away at a loneliness  protected by me.