HEAVEN WILL PROTECT THE LOVING MAN

I cannot make anyone understand what's happening inside me

WE CARRY OUR WORLD WITHIN US

May a bomb land on me—let it find me doing something sensible and human, like praying, reading, working, writing, laughing with friends, or kissing a beautiful woman. I don’t want to see it coming, nor will I ever. It’s always dawned on me that I know my circumstances, like where I was born and where I live, so may these missiles find the real targets. The likes of Raytheon, Halliburton, Lockheed Martin, the IDF, and the United States Department of Defense. May the destruction they’ve caused come back to haunt them until their final breath. Glory to the martyrs, and may this peace find everyone in the shadows of bombs dropped in my name, but not by me, nor my choice.

I DO NOT DESIRE MEDIOCRE LOVE, I WANT TO DROWN IN SOMEONE

Trying to conceive of a plan to do 500 Days of Summer, but alone. In the meantime, here are some lists I’ve been crafting in my mind for the past two months.

My top 5 heartbreaks in chronological order —
(I’ve been watching a lot of Hi Fidelity)

• **a ***g**

• *i***** **t****

• **y*** *****n

• *****o* **g**

• A**** ****h**

My top 5 banned zodiac signs —
(women only)

1. Capricorn

2. Aquarius

3. Aries

4. Taurus

5. Pisces

My top 3 places to drink a beer —

1. My house

2. Pomeroys

3. The dry storage at work

The best times to have McDonald’s —

1. 945 am

2. 230 am

3. 5 pm

Things that are not night coded but way cooler to do at night —

1. Wear sunglasses

2. Drink coffee

What I’ve done for love –

Some of it is ugly, obscene, and bestial, some of it is pure and holy and spiritual: all of it is myself.

• Lost myself

• Found myself

• Hated myself

• Loved myself

• Destroyed myself

• Rebuilt myself

• Rebuilt myself again

• Rebuilt myself again

• Rebuilt myself again

• Rebuilt myself again

THERE’S STILL FOUNTAINS DOWN THERE

UNDER COMMUNISM YOU’LL BE JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER GUY

You’re irony-poisoned. You’re apathetic. You’re stuck. And now, you’re just like everyone else. Joke after joke—but the real joke is: when was your last sincere thought? When was the last time you said something you actually meant, without cushioning it with sarcasm?

You turned yourself into a parody before anyone else could. You dodge vulnerability like it’s a disease. You scroll, you mock—but it’s hollow, because it’s just another day pretending not to care.

You think sincerity is cringe, but all that posturing hasn’t brought you any closer to meaning. You’ve surrounded yourself with layers so thick, you’ve forgotten what your actual voice sounds like.

There’s still a part of you that wants to matter. Wants to feel.

Admit it—aren’t you tired of pretending you don’t care?

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