What are the options? A voice that says, “You don’t belong here, learnedfar too late”

how to walk? The audacity of writing in deep ends, unaware of the beginnings, pity and advice -- the contemptof having survived much worse.

I can’t sell myself; someone stole me first. A coupon at best, too used for the shelves. In a world that brands with pride, what is left of us, delusional and poor, too much time on our hands?

I say, “Can we care so much, so much that living withoutbecomes impossible?”

Oversharing in the public eye is simply living. Nowadays; scars going live a clusterfuck of patched bruises.

The tragedy is that I’ll never be right for their truths, our shared figures drained of their symbols, left with basic intelligence far better instincts.

subscribe://