the “final” version of my short story, or at least the latest draft. it’s about friends at the beach, and being afraid of big things. like life. i’ll probably never really be satisfied with it.

you don’t have to read it or anything. that’s why i’m using a little break here. but yeah.

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filled like a little plastic cup
catching unending rain
funneled through that long, long staircase
100 cantos
four times
fifty minutes
and everyone’s starving half-breathed syllables
dripping constantly, intravenously
racking, choking sobs
and oh my god that is really your life
my hand gripping yours like a final deathbed embrace
i want to catch every single word


hollow egg cracking
jokes with no punch-line
drawn in the sand between us two
miles away is too
far to cross in the time given
to us in this night week month
years passing too quickly to catch
up at the crack crack crack of dawn
is too early but we’re just too late