dial tone

i've been thinking about this for a few days. nope. i can't. i can't ask you anything. i mean i want to. i want to ask you to be bare in thought, in pictures, in stare. i want to know what is most true, but it's all so risky. i don't think i need to remind you about how questions turn the ground to quicksand. how my curiosity is the radical element. how your feet magically come to life the second i am free. maybe this time is different, maybe the same. i know it's not up to me.

i wanna know what you wanna tell me. i want to feel stupid for only bringing a cup to catch the sea. i want to do it all over but better. it's hard to remember why we started talking in the first place. when exactly did i decide to hunt you? when did the pictures become about you? perhaps we have become the same, banging for drips on an empty drain. perhaps its rainy where you are too. i used to like not knowing everything but now it bothers me to my core.

yesterday i was going to post. the day before too. i stopped myself because what i was going to write about seemed so pedestrian. somehow that wasn't worthy of this place. but that is life. boring stories and process. i guess no matter how hard i try to meld the here to the now, this remains almost a second life. a beautiful, abstract cocoon.

are we friends?

i'll never be sorry for requiring so much, just in case you didn't already know.

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