Sometimes There is No Static

Sometimes there is no static

And if everyone knew that you weren’t talking of your own volition instead the words they bleed from the cascade – Rivers – flow towards the path of least resistance they wouldn’t want to hurt you because they know – they know
surely
they know that if you said something silly then you didn’t mean it you just didn’t have a choice because I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know or I
couldn’t help it because I just had this feeling you know and I was angry
either that or you didn’t let me finish or I just didn’t have the fucking words I wish
that you cared – specifically that you don’t
so I’d be set free to disappear but not and try again the next day or maybe even the next minute because sometimes.

There isn’t static–

–on the TV

As Felt Hayle welcomed his mind back. The channel was playing on reminiscence, back in 2012 when we all pretended to understand streetwear as if it were smart casual. Sinking into the beanbag just a little too gluttonously I humored myself with the broken sole of my foot. Broken shoes – blistered feet – oversized varsity with black jeans. I’m unsure if this level of detail is to be considered roll-playing or just a refusal to age past man-baby – I am in a college dorm room – on a fucking beanbag.

Studying Linguistics
Rhetoric:
–Art of discourse – based in realm of logic – addresses either the other, the self, or the form.
–Graphology seems reasonable but never parallels reality
–Form required to articulate thought – detrimental for entertainment
–Pure form therefore detrimental to communication as boredom quickly begets dismissal
–Sentence order influence on thought pattern? Societal Importance?
–Plosives are passive – implies language meaning is influenced by sound – context?
– P͎ͥ͛̍̿͒̅̊̋͂ù̳̲̬̮͎̎̐̃͠͡l̝̤͚͈̘̘̺͍̥̎ͣ͆̉̌̾̇͐͗͢͝m̼͉̭͐͊̆̒o̳̬̫͖͚̽ͮͥ͡ͅn̶̡͚͈͓̫̼̻̰͆͌̓a̷̳͕̯̠̺̫ͥ̾̽ͧ̔ͩr̯̲̻̃̓̅͡ỹ̹̬ͭͥͨ̆̇ͦ̑ ̝̣͚̤̻̭ͭ̿̅E̸̛̲̜̲̪͍̪̤͙͍ͯ̀̿̽ͬ̈̀d̷͎ͫe̡̺̯̼̜̺͙̬̰͛̍́̒͛̐ͧ͘m̡̬̣͎̐̓̃͟a̹͍̻̋ͭ̚͟ͅ ̴̛̞̮̼̜̭̼̋ͣ͛̉̀̎ͦͅd̷̗̫͍̩̦̀̂̕r̡̜͇̙͈̜̦̲̲͐͢o̅ͭ͟͏̶̫̱̬͎͕̫ẉ̺̮̠̼͉̼̱͔̍͗̀n̸̼̼̤͈̭͈̖͇͆ͭͫ͊̎̍̑̚͞͡s̡̤̯̫͍̠̦̮ͯͅ ̷ͮ̇͏̫̳̹s̩̥̱̦̓ͨ̓̉ͨͣ͒̚m̵̧͚̝̼͚͓̃͑̊̇͂̚a̶̳͉̯͋̾̌̌̇̐̀ͅļ̛̪̘̇̆l̸͎̗͚̮͔͈̪̮̈̂̽ͥ ͈̩͋̾̋c̶̘̼̈h̺̙̯̜͚̻̎ͦͮ͐ͣ̈́̚͟͡i̺̦͖̱̘̹̮̺ͧ̇̾͊́͘l̸̡͚̭̥͗͋̾͌͗͂͋͠d̢̖͇͔̲̭̄͊͒ͥ̍ͬͭ͂̕͞ȓ͚̬̤͍͚̑͐͝͡ȅ̤͈̍͞ṉ̩̫̱̽́́͞ ̋ͦ̽͌͋ͪ̿̿҉̪̬̗ī̢͖͇̟͍̫̣̻̜ͣ̑̈́̆̅ͮ͌̚͟n̷̥̙̬͈̰̼̖͗͊ͪ̐͗̈ͪͦͅ ̖̜̖͈̪͈͇ͩ̓͐̓ͣ͟͞t̶̯̟̦̼̤̖͖̲̬̀̽͘͠h̺͔̟̓̊̂̊ͨ̆ͪ̑͐́͝e̴̛̠͖̝̼̞͗͋̇̄͌i̵̻̯͉̳ͬ͆̎͌͛̑ͨr̦̙͍̟ͫͤ̀ͫ̌̂̕ ̙̰̺̣͓͉ͬ͑̆̑ͣ̏̾ͤ̎͟õ̸̳̺̠̰̗͚ͮ͋w̛̛̖͓ͭͮ̌ͧ͌͐̐̆n̉̕͠҉͖ͅͅ ̛̜̖͙̩̖̻̃̈́̈́ͩ̊̒ͮ̒̔̀̕b̰̹̰̣͆̅̐̎ͩ͑͋̔ļ̻̰̜̮̱͎͆̍ͮ̆ͥ͗oͧ͆͏̵̻͇̘̝͇͔o̵̷̹̱͇̫̗̤͕̲ͯͅd͊͌̽̇̍̀ͩͥ͏̡̲͖.̫̀ͭ̂̕

Melbourne comforts me with its dank misery; she prefers not to condescend only to reciprocate. Cold air numbs the lungs burning from the smoke I spend far too much money – that I don’t have – on.
And the odes to life without man – everywhere – parks of reverence and beauty necessary to tangent mans’ litter as it scuffs and molds to the pavement made bedroom for probably a little too many people.
Okay, far too many people.

But you can scarf a neck and glove hands black atop a white button down because nothing hugs a male frame quite like a Calvin Cline.
Yeah not to mention it’s the only clean shirt you own. Because you don’t wear it. Because you only have one.
For the first time in five days I’m not wearing my varsity.
I should wear my varsity.
I’m wearing my varsity.
So the Calvin Cline remains clean because I still can’t muster up the courage to wear anything else.
Enclosed shoes is about as far as a bars required decency extends – anyway.
Where? Oh – ho have I got a treat for you!

Island Somewhere attacks the retina like a gigantic ball of flame –
You mean the sun?
Overtones of flirtatious lights blink and flutter off the corner of every well, uh, corner. Sensational. Sense –
Lights! Colors appear to have discarded their notion of humility with newfound encouragement from the onset of photons – as if the light had a contagious vivaciousness the colors heed – I noted, no longer am I searching, instead the colors embrace.

Setting down by the bar I ordered one of many and watched the channel change.

Yeah it’s the same issue people have with elevators; eternally anxious about the possibility that it might – I mean how many times’ve you heard it? “I hope it doesn’t… break!”
But that’s not the case surely!
No-one really thinks the elevator will crash and burn or halt and stale until the air is no more and the flesh has gone cold. No-one really worries about sentient murderous malevolent up and down boxes do they?
It’s the deliverance of ever really needing to find a way to talk about being trapped or perishing or simply knowing that nothing you do or say changes the fact that you are not in control.
Because everybody is scared of elevators.
Right?
Because you can never choose the last words you say to someone.
Ỳou ̸o͘nl͜y ̛ge̛t ̧t͢o ̀kn̨o͞w ͞that̀ t̛her͟e̕ ar̕e.̡
B͏̧̛é͞f̡́̀o͞r̕͝e̡̧͡ ͞t̡̕͘͟h͟͏͘͏e̷̛͡҉ ̶̡s̢̢͢t͝҉̛͟à̴̧̀͜t̷̶̷͘į̧̛͟c̷͟͡–̵́̀̕

–on the television waned as Felt Hale adjusted the dials.

He was up-stairs in the hidden retro game bar – behind the bookshelf – drinking the fifth

As I plugged in the power cord for the seventh time I’d decided turning it off and on again wouldn’t save me from burnt out technology. Crash team racing taunted me with its presence. Right there. Right fucking there; but a public ps1 is indeed public. I settled for the N64 and played Mario Kart Classic. Settling into the burlesque lights in a bar full of people who could probably do with a burlesque show.

Everything feels like a script, or, like a bunch of scripts and whether or not they act out is dependent upon whether or not you entertain the possibility that they might. Pretend like they all do! I call it “reverse engineering the future”. Like changing the channel bef͠ore ҉y̶oú ̶h̨e̡ar t̸h̨e͏ ̕ştat̛i͜–̀

Felt reverses the dial six full rotations; abandoning the motion at the start of the seventh.
You can hear the city of Perth, I swear
like you can smell the food of an age
or see, fucking see. You can see New Year’s fire-works – they are specifically more vibrant more vibrant like a summary yes of all the times you’ve seen the boom shells light up alone but sometimes sometimes like really really rarely you aren’t and you can see – you can see – yes I can s͡e͏e͘͠ hę̷r͢ ͟͞͡s̶c̢ơ̴͘l̷͟ḑ͜i͟ng̷̀ ̧̨m͟

“Felt. Do we really have to do this? Like, I mean, there’s bumper cars or the clown thing or like any of the stalls actually. You can. You can like try win me a teddy bear or something. This is dumb. Like I. I mean we’ll just go up then down then that’s it. Dumb”
Lowering my height I wrap my right arm the entire way around her waist line. Rocking back I rest her hind comfortably atop my hip bone. Exactly the same way you would hip throw someone; just minus the throw. She might have voiced her concerns where she not entirely clouded with embarrassment, confusion and probably I sensed, just a drop of happiness. Hands stuttering – she looks the way I feel wearing a pocket-less jumper –
“Are you comfortable”
“Wh-what the actual fu-“
Switching her tone from irritation to humor – laughing subtly –
“What are you doing Felt?”
“Right now, if you were to close your eyes there would be no way to tell you aren’t all the way up there”
Using my free left hand I gestured towards the Ferris wheel.
“Yeah except some idiot, wait, are you going to put me down? Put me down?”
“Fuck no, I’m making a point”
Resetting her higher on my waist I continued.
“Your feet are off the ground, you have a seat-belt, and you have a seat. You can feel the breeze in the air and whether you like it or not, you can hear me”
“Make sense Felt”
“I’m about to. If you want to lie you can just answer to yourself silently. But think. Right now. Do you feel safe?”
“Fuck no, I’m being ma…”
.
“Okay fine. Like, I suppose so”
“Between me and you, I’m pretty strong, but not as strong as a hundred tonnes of steel”
.
“I don’t really want to put you down”
“well. You kind of have too”
“Nope, nu–uh.”
.
“are you really gonna ju-“
“yep”
“argh”
Leaning back into my chest Trisha wrapped her arm around my neck and found an unusual amount of comfort. Jesus Christ, she’s light. Stupid light. Are people supposed to be this light?

I suppose she’s short enough to be a

“you’re not a dwarf are you?”

In response she turned her head sharply to whip me with her plait. And it fucking hurt, actually.

I put her down so abruptly I basically dropped her. Well, I did. I dropped her, realized I dropped her, re-caught her, and then placed her on the ground.

She bounced. Led me by the wrist and took us both onto the platform. Sizing the metropolis in front of us she warned.
“Oh this is so not going to be fun”
“It will be, I promise”
Ì͍͍̗̻̰̜̟ͧ͠t̥̩̟͇̱ ̭̱̹͆͊͛͂͑͌w̡ͦͬaͨͫ͋ͦ́͆̚s̱͕͍̖̪̞̊̌ͯ ͉̬̣̙̃͊̚a͛̓ͮͥ͢ ͇̝̲̌p̘͆͑͝r̿ͪͩͯ̆̇o̥̹̞͚̜̱ͣ͊ͪ̎̾ͧm͍̲̻͙ͥͩi̪͚͉̫ͪ͑͂͒́͆ͤ͟s͕̮̹̻̹̎̏͂͛̚e ̨̅I̘̬̩̼̭͗̋ͬ̆ ̜͖̫͕̩͓̲ͥ́i̍͆̓͒ͪ̍ň̝͉̫t͈̲̳̼̠̥e͚͇̘̮̗͕̳̒͂́n̙̮̣̹ͬ͑̈ḓ̳̣̯̫̿e̯͓̱͕͓̯̖̓́d̪̾̃͞ ̛ͦͅt̝̝͉ͧ̌́̂o̘͎̟̝͕͇̓̌̊ͥ̍ͯ ͚͐k̺̙̜̳͍͎̽ͦͮ͒ͬͅè͔͚ͥ͊e̩̩͓͈͖̔ͭͅp̼̪̜͙͓̰͝.̨͚͔̙̘̦̒ͬ̎̽̾

You ever actually play those single player time trials on Mario Kart 64? Who are these people who set the records? Who are these every day heroes?

One day I’d love to sit down and have a beer with “t̬̜̩̳͋ͩͨͨͩ͌r͇̘͔̈́͊i͉͙̋ͫṣ̭̺͚͓̱̃̾̒́̄ͧh̫̻͇̣̤ͥ̒͐͐͌ͤa͔͉̺̜̳̥̠͚̎̐͒̐͗ͮ” who by day manages tax files, oh but by night! By night she’s the Mario Kart world champio–

Felt.

What?

You need to address this.

And for the moment I considered keeling – maybe I was, slowly melting from the stool. Focused on the dial. Focused on the dial. Fo̢c̡u͜s͢e̕d̸ ̵̕on̨ ̵t̕h̕͞é̢̡ ͏di̶͢a̡̧͞l̵

I almost didn’t turn it, two full rotations. I almost didn’t find this exact spot. I almost didn’t f̸̴̕͟͝o̴̧̡r̴̸҉̵g̷͟è̛̀t̶̶́ ̴͘T͘҉̛͞r̶̸i̸̶s̕͜h͘͏a̧͟͟͠ ̸̢̛͢I̧͟s̸̀́n̶̛͝͞’̷͡͏̸̧t̷̡̀͢ ̷̧̡͠҉h̡̛̕e̸͜͠r͜e҉̴͡͡.́͞͏̷

Harmlessly holding my hands in the air – smiling idiotically – I gesture. To which she replied with a not so quick kiss. I’m still shocked to have become the kind of man that would say –
“Welcome home baby”
Re-imagining herself she placed lengths of her red hair in a stream down her cheeks, calmly pulled the bobby pins from her bun and let the fiery mess fall behind her neck. I placed a soft hand around her waist and encouraged her to get comfortable entangled in my lap.
“What did you two get up to today”
“Early preschool education!”
“Teaching Eve to be an accountant?”
“Teaching she who is yet to be named by her mother, yes.”
“Teaching she who is already named Evelyn how to hate numbers, yes?”
“It’s not that bad!”
“You’re right. Sometimes on public holidays you even get to dress casual on your way to work!”

In response she offered no vocals, instead appearing as the cynical self.
Before she could sigh I caught her breath with a quick kiss. Which probably wasn’t too friendly on her diaphragm – Hiccup – She reminded me that I was an idiot and I reminded her that she was my constant source of amusement. – Hiccup –
“This is so not funny”
It feels criminal to be this absurdly happy.

A couch. No TV. Breakfast in the morning. Two clocks in the hall. Cleaning dishes. Going to work. Coming home. Buying new pillows. Having a reason to buy new pillows. Daily chores. Morning sex. Picking up far too many pillows. Life. Life with pillows.

Life with pillows.
“Shit”
“What now?”
“Felt it’s like seven o’clock”
“Yeah? Time tends to do its thing”
“We have a date ni..”
“What”
“Nothing. Nothing. We have nothing on. Nothing at all. Nope. Not a single thing”
“Then… what are you”
Urgency flowed from voice to hand as I’m promptly – ushered – into the shower
“Hurry up!”
“What am I hurrying for? Trish? What have you got us caught up in this time?”
“Nothing!”
“You know we can save time if we shower together”
“hey good ide… wait no, no time. No it’s not”
“It’s a brilliant Idea! Now come on!”
“No, no. nope. Not happening. Not at all. No way”
As she was caught up in her own nonsense half panic I prepared two towels, removed her jewelry, shoes and most of her clothes. She was still talking about the time – a concept – as we entered the shower. I opened the shower faucet and burst; catching her witness noticing that we are now doing the exact thing she was saying we didn’t have the time to do.
“I hate you. You did the thing again”
“I did the thing”
“how do you. How do you even do that?”
“It’s my thing”
“You’re no good”
“I’m no good”
“you’re seriously no good”
“I’m seriously no good”
“You’re really seriously not at all any damn good”
Her voice softened and her head nestled into my shoulder. Calmly reaching for her shampoo with one hand I gently rock and with the other I start running my fingers through her hair.
“Definitely not Maybelline”
“But maybe it is”
“Definitely not”
“What if it is though”
“I’m certain it’s not”
“Could be”
“Conditioner?”
“Don’t change the subject”
I shut the faucet ever so slightly.
“Conditioner! Conditioner!”
.
“Definitely not though”
“Girls can be tricky you know”
“No way. Not a chance”
“How do you know?”
“Floral or soap?”
“Floral”
“Eyes”
“Shoulders knees and toes knees and toes”
“Do you literally just say whatever you think?”
“Do you?”
“Only in the shower”
“Only in the shower”

F̼̆ͫͨ̄͂ͦͅe̟̳͎͍̍l͓̮͓̭͓ͩͩ̾ͦ͗̒̐ͧͅt͔̐ͣ̆̃͐͗ͦ̊.̥̱̠͖̮͎̱͙ͭ̾ͪ̐̐͋̚
̝̦̰͈̬͖̱̦̺͊͌̍͗
̙̭͕̞̉͛ͮ͌ͨ͑ͪ̿Y͕͍̫̗̤̱̽͂ỏ̳̩̹̌ͫͦ͌ủ͓͉̦͙̝̖͂͗̅͋̀ͯ̋̃ ̱͔͇̝̹̩͖͈ͯ̌͊͆ͧ̚k͎̰̗͇̘̤̠̮̼͑̓̉̋̏n̟͖̦̮̍̒̈́ͦ͒̇ͭͨo̫͔̯̾ͮͮͤ̍ẅ̥͉̱̫͔̙͍͛ͯ̒́̃͆̂́ͅ.̲̙̓ͦ ͉͚̺ͣ͋T̗͉ͥ̂̿r͙̤ͨͤ̍̓u͕̪̻̽͋̾̄ͥ͂͋͛t̝͍̝̹͌̿h̟̮͙͍̳̋͛ͧͨ̍́̂͛ͤ ̮̠̞̼͋̓̅̅̒ͅi͇͓̯̯̱̐ͧͦ̄ͯͅs̻̦̫̐̉̓̑̍̚ ̣̌͂̋ͪ́h̤̻̖͍̻̤̦̘ͨ̑͂̾ͨͮ̑ả͇̺͕͇̜͉̠̣ͣ͛̈̉̈́̒̓r̞ͭͤ̆̄ͩd̗̫̗̂̔͛̋ ̫̘͉̩̽ͩͣ̂t͉̟̻̝̹ͤ̄ͧ̆̔ǒ̟̼̗̝̣̹̪ͦ̑ͥ͛ ̤̖̺̬͕̤̹͖̑̒ͮ̃́j̰̱̗͎ͬ̑u̙ͣͪͬ́̆ṡ̞̦ͬ̎͒ͨt͔͇̺̝̦̬͊̿̋i̤̼̻̰̒̐̍͊͐̚f̭͇̼͚̜̗̺͉̲̉ͮ̇͗̒͗͊̊̚y͕̲̜ͣͨͫ͑̎.͈̋ͦͧ̇̊͂ͭ̇̚
̰̞̮̩̤͉ͨ̎ͦ͛
o̖͚̬͉̼̻͗̌̑f̦̲̌ ̭͖͔̭̩͍̳̂͋͑a̫ͦ̄ͩͫͤn̖̮̬̱̻̗ͤ̍ͤ̆ŷ͍̥̝̞̃ͤ ͎̘̟͍ͦ͌ͫ̔ć̬͙͚̑̍ͤͩo̝̮̳̣̰̲͇͆̈ͮ͑ͥ̈́̽̚n̼͈̫͙̪̿̀̊̑̋̂ͥt̩͙͐̒̒i͈͇̯͙̪̝̦ͤ͐̔̿ͫͯ̈́n̤̘͋̈̆̊ͮͮ̋̀͆ͅu̘̬̟̣͚̹̱̦̯̎̀̍ͭ̆̆i͕̞͍̣̼͎̤̪̺ͥͦ̊̌t̩͑̔̔́y̞̲̭̬͍̙̦̖̔͌.͕̠͖̖̼̝̾ͬͮ̓̐͐̑ ̯͔̯ͥ̄̍ͭ͑̃̋̈́ͭỸ̬͈̹̥̤ͥ̏͌̋̒ͫ̏͒o̯͌ͦu̗̤̽ͦ̏͛ͣͮ̒̊ ͔͓̦̞̲̹̞ͭͮͮ̏ͫd̥͙ͦͩ̾ͥͨ̽̐ͥȏ̺̻̲͓̭̩͖ͤ̔n̲ͥ̅́’̱̘͗ͧͣt͙̩͈͍̻̦͔̝ͭ̌̉͒ͣͅ ͙̖͇̮͛ͣͮͯͤ͊ͧ͛n̥̟͇̹͔̟̜͈ͭͯͬe͚̺̮͇̝͎͓̳ͦ̐̔ͭ͋͆e̻͗d̫̪̝̻̤͍͇͍̓ͧ̍ ̻̫̠̳͕̪͙̲̐͒ͦ̃̎ͥ̓i̤̼̫̝ͪ̀̏ͦ̄t̼̗͚̥̺̘̼̪̊ͣ̂̊ͯͩ.̤̼̗̦̟ͯ̀ͮ̆̆ͯͬͬ͛ ͎̝ͥ͑ͧ́T̺̤̪̘̳̬͖͇̯̎̀̈́͒h̠̗͈̜̟̙́̑͊̋̋ͩ̉̃ͅe̻̤͈͚͒̑́͒̄͋ͪͦͯͅr̖͓̘͈͙̬ͮ̈́̀͆̏̈́ȇ͉̤̥͔͎ͮ,̦͈̅̓̈̅͑́ ͔͈̪̙̣̊ͭ̄͐͌̋̅̓̒s̭̘̫̓ͧ́ͮ̚t̖̯̖͈̫͙̾͑̀͑ͫů̜̳̩̖͇f͓̖̝̖̪͍͇̌̇̋͆̉̔̏f̖̩͛ͭͫ̎ͯ̏͊

Satisfied with yet another Mario Kart time trial r-r-record! I’m gon’ get another beer – tune the TV

.

I admire the space in between a woman’s hip-crease and the top of her waist line curve – that space of belly – to me represents the meaning of life.
That space constitutes purpose and represents an exact perspective of love. From this space comes life, comes beauty – meaning.
This space can be a priority of ours for such a long time. Perhaps even all the time.
This space can achieve something science cannot, something even God cannot.
This space is soft and warm, perfect for resting a head after a long time in-between siestas. A woman’s belly constitutes nurture, the concept of giving – life – of rest and love.
This space has power, real power.
For violence and money, conflict and value barely have control over me, barely influence any aspect of my mind.
But that space on a woman’s body I will forever feel in awe of. The natural beauty is enough to motivate me for any challenge in life.
People can carelessly destroy. In many, many ways.
But from a woman’s belly comes creation.
Nothing is powerful like a mothers love. It is absolute.
To me, nothing is more purposeful, more beautiful – embodies life, love, morose than the space and function that is, a woman’s belly.
As I grow and learn as a man, every day I recognize my strength, my accomplishments, my own personal achievement – purpose
But no matter how much I learn to love myself, I’ll love that space of life even more.
Because as much as I am as a man, I feel as though my purpose for growing, for learning, for getting stronger, is simply to serve and protect that small space on the human body.
As merely a human, that space reminds me we are not alone.
B͇͇̼̱̹̩́̃ͬ̓̈́ͥ̌e̘̱̣̦̱͛̓̏c̮͈̞̪̼̲ͥ͒a̦͚̺̜u͖͛̃ṣ͉̭͉e͔̳̔ͪͨ̈ ̙͛͒́̋ͪͥif͍͍̹̱̼̻̬ͧͯ ̪̙̱̯̭̰͕̃w͕̮̖̳̼ě̓ ̙̰̩̭ͦ͌̍ͭ̚w̤̥̺̔̎ė͇̟͍r͚͈̼̬͑e̩̓,̙̖̬ ̖̟͕͖͓ͫw͎̦̫̥̭͖̖͑̐ͪͨ͒̂eͣͥͫͭͣ̚ ̮͗̆̑w̱̺̻̞̤ͤo̭̝͖̠̳͖ů̹̣͉͍̍ͦͣͪͯl̗̰̹̽̂d̠̻͔̘͚͙̃n̳̥̺̉̆̍ͨ̐’̥̪̣̘̟̜̼ͮ̔̓t͕͙̯̣̗ ͭͩ͗̀ͧ̈b͎̳̩̰̣͎̍ͨͭͯͭ̉e͉̻̻͙̠̖̟͌͑̃̄̀̂ͧ,̯̣ͬ̎ͨ͐ͥ̈͛ ̳̬̘̮̘͉̌̾ͯ͐̑ͯ̂aͭͭͯ̉̃ț̜̬̮̜̌ ̲̟̟̜͚̹̌̀̎̍͒ͫͤa̗̖̟͔̘l͎̘̘̼̺̹̄̚l̰͕̳̞̥̠̒ͥ͗̅.̟̥́̎ͦ̌͒̌

–Felt–

As merely a human, that space reminds me we are not alone.

Because if we were, we wouldn’t be, at all.

–̪Fe̖l̳͖̥͔̣͖̳t̴̞̳͚̝̖̱–͖̻͚̞͝

You’re never as drunk as you are when you drag the foul home and surrender to the shower hoping to god you remembered to take your clothes off this time this time you hope it’s the last time because
I don’t want to keep doing this. Felt.

I don’t.

I don’t want to keep dying in the shower. Every night. A҉n͞d ̵f̕ragm̛e͢ńt ̨y̛our ̸f́u̶çk̶e͏d̕ ̢u̶p ̨m̴ęss o̧f̴ ̢a ͘tím͏e- l̨̛inȩ̧ ̵͢b̨a̛͢ck̷ t̶̷̨o͟͏g̵̴e͢͠͏t̴h̕͞er̛ ̀͢b͟͡͞e҉cá̸͡u҉́s͢͞è̵ ̢͢o̸҉nc̢͟͠è͞ ̡a̢̨ǵ͘͠ai̕͠͞n̨͡ y҉o̷u’̛͏v̴͝e t̕͞o͟͏̨r̴̛͟n̷̷ ̵̵͠҉̷į̛́̕͘t̨͠ ̕͜a҉̴̀p̴̶͜͢͞a͡r͞t̵̸̀ ͝͏͏̶͟l̢͏̴͟o̵̕͝ó̢͘̕͞k̴̢͘͠i̷̕͟҉n̷͘͞͠͏g̵̛͘ ̴̡̧͜͡f̕͘͡o̷͞r̕͠ ̨T̴͘͜͠r͏̢i̵̢s̸͟͟҉̴h҉̶a̶̸͟

“Every fake name in the world and you had to pick Trish”
“There’s nothing fake about the name Trish Hayle”
“can we. can you pick a different one?”
“no.”
“I knew a girl named trish”
“Knew?”
“She’s gone”
“What happened?”
“DD”
“I’m so so-“
“Yeah.”
.
“She’d have liked you”
“why do you say that?”
“She said she used to dream about a stray dog”
“could have been a nightmare”
“She said the dog would come to her room and she’d say it looked hungry; try feed it apple pie. And then it would always run away. No matter how many times she tried to make it stay”
“If the dream keeps happening, the dog never really left”
“That’s what she said”
“Does she like apple pie?”
“No, because you only ever want more”

.

“I wouldn’t change the past, even if I could. That only leads to madness”
“Can you change the future?”
Before I could answer the still new years sky lit up with fireworks and hued the panicked surrounds with a warm red glow.
.

Sometimes there is no static.

Sometimes there is no beer.

Sometimes Felt Hayle cannot change the channel.

Sometimes there is static.

Sometimes he remembers how they teach you to sing staying alive
while performing CPR
Because
the beat
just so
happens
to be
the right
perfect
fitting
rhythm for-
manually
re-starting
the heart
of your wife
as she bleeds
as she bleeds
as she bleeds
as she bleeds
as she bleeds
as she bleeds
as she bleeds
as she bleeds
as she bleeds
as she bleeds
as she bleeds
as she bleeds from the cascade – Rivers – flow towards the path of least resistance they wouldn’t want to hurt you because they know they know
surely
they know that if you said something silly to them then you didn’t mean it you just didn’t have a choice because I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know or I
couldn’t help it because I just had this feeling you know and I was angry I didn’t know
either that or you didn’t let me finish or I just didn’t have the fucking words I wish
that you cared – specifically that you don’t
so I’d be set free to disappear but not and try again the next day or maybe even the next minute because sometimes.

There isn’t static–

–on the TV.

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