in my neighborhood

You are like the tuber of calcaneous, necessary but non-articulating…

Without you there is no ambulating me…

The things you said to me in your gasps and low moans:

“They transferred me to room 15…”

“It’s the same to die here or there.”

This meant nothing to me at the time, but it means everything now, in this age of torn Achilles … “in an existence where words don’t count for nuthin’.”

I miss you my tuber of calcaneus.

“If you want to do something, don’t wait for someone to ask you to do it. Get off your phone and meet people. Get a full-time job you don’t hate, do your own art on the side, save money, and when you have enough saved invest it into creating something you like and believe in. Maybe it will work out, maybe it won’t. I have no idea what I’m doing either.”

— Bráulio Amado / The Creative Independent Interview

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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