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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
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Cosimo Galluzzi
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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EXPECTATIONS
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The Stonewall Inn
Not today Justin

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@clsddr
Join my fable for a third space vibe but like… virtual.
Fable | Stories for everyone
I never mastered the coordination of my step. Each thump served as an echo, the decibels I produced unwillingly, embarrassingly in the mixes of a confused mind. Coordinating it all, that had to be what I was missing.
i thought, momentarily, the rugged man at the store who wished me- no forced me in his laughter - ‘you better have a good weekend’
was this foreshadowing of your eventual distaste of my mind
with construction zones at every corner all i try is to be good.
i caught myself wishing for a tragedy again, perhaps to defend the unnatural ways i feel.
it came, surprised me just as much as the last time.
when my companion was here, i sat and in some twisted way envisioned that he disappeared.
my own imaginary fire engulfed everything i loved, then i opened my eyes.
i’m burning everywhere now and it’s far too real.
when i went to save him from the flames he had already been gone.
i wanted to scream at him, cry for him, i did. really i just wanted to wake up.
dreams don’t last this long, i suppose i’ll have to reach you in my own way.
i hadn’t checked on you in a while, i could never be a mother.
i feel like i abandoned you, you who quite literally could not leave me.
you relied on me, did i let you down?
were you happy to stay with me, away from everyone who didn’t value you?
with no words you always asked how i was doing.
with the softest grunt you agreed with me- the world sucks.
your whiskers tickled my hand until i realized maybe everything wasn’t that serious.
when you hopped until you seemed to cartwheel, i had my own cheerleader.
at the end, you were so old i had no clue how you were staying.
m said you left because you knew i didn’t need you anymore.
he said you could tell i had someone to take care of me now, you could let go.
i don’t think i agree. i think today i’m alone.
i think i need to go home, to the old house, the one where we stayed.
i can’t do what i need to do and i never will be able to again.
time always seems so whimsical until it’s concrete nature traps us all.
i love you my little guy. you stay the same in my head. i’ll never let you leave it.
i would like to watch a film tomorrow. not to remember a time i gave up- just to experience a million worlds at once. i have the right to still enjoy cinema even though i feel as if i abandoned the art.
you don’t have to create a masterpiece to live as art. film is one medium that captures living- just living as art.
im not naive, no one is tuning into the scenes of my day, except i am. i am and that’s worth it. sometimes no one else has to see.
the world may just be worth sitting on the patio for my lunch break and listening to the wind, the bugs, the trees, the cars.
i may, however, solely be entering an elevated state, short lived and ready to plummet.
i really don’t mind.
the bugs sound beautiful and this sandwich reminds me of life and fuel and continuing.
going can be such a hard thing if you never stop.
so ready to be lana drunk on my 21st 
i’m satisfied you can take time away. i’m glad you were there in the background as i left as well. and i will be here waiting patiently, always a door open. i will understand what no one understood for me. there is time to enjoy a bit later, always.
they could never make me hate you baby
when i’m sad i listen to mitski’s class of 2013. it never works. any tips?
Death and the Maiden, 1900, by Henri Lévy
stock animal
The 400 Blows
Source
Robert Smith, 1991