s.a.d? gtfo

I was an extra in a film, a part of my job that is not regularly part of my job.
I shone yesterday night's mess, egg salad spilling from the corners of my lips.
I listened to the film crew argue semantics, taking my last few bites.
swallow.
I wonder who he fucked, I thought.
I wonder if he wants to be mine, I pondered.
Amidst the white bread, the peppercorn, the horrid tone mulling in the air, I was revisited by our bodies, moaning and thriving. Connected under multiple spells of past midnight, locked stare, clamped jaw, skin envy, kiss
& that's when the camera panned. Capturing the moment where my heart lay heavy on my plate.
No food to be consumed, just ache.
When the room fell silent, I knew what they'd seen, but I pretended my sadness came with the end of my sandwich.
I'm quite good at acting.

refrain

voyeurism
this casual sex of blinking cursor,
the zoom lens,
this constant contradiction of language being used to descend, back to days,
when, flesh and interaction could transcend
beyond the depths of,
beyond the bare bones,
of human behavior.
no one discusses frustration
bloating, fatter then the greedy belly of a glutton
full on ourselves
this, we created, to destroy
without any thought of rehabilitation.
this hidden idea of existence consisting of words
I can no longer understand the meaning of.

I've stopped writing for the sake of my sanity.

moment.

am I an optimist or a pessimist?

take a moment.

spirituality & cake.

apparently, women are the main market for hope.