hope for the best…


Libido Livedo

A vibrant tuning fork in hand.

This is normally a prime time for burrowing a hole in your heart.

Almost immediately you tell me to videograph your heartache.

You claim that this crowded urban area saps your optimism
and your love for your fellow human.

Someone’s banging on the door, yelling: get out, get out.

You will slowly reopen your heart and repair the gaps, and hope for the best.

It’s still not easy to be asymptomatic.

Over the next couple of weeks before June love forlorn, love clinically
enervated, will disappear permanently.

Fuel for the broken heart. 

Food for stormy weather.

“When I’m struggling with writing fiction, I turn to reading other forms: poetry or, most often, nonfiction that intensely investigates a topic unfamiliar to me.”
— Mary South

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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