First as tragedy, then as farce

A pile of sticks, contrary to intuition, are not a good mobile device stand.

I use the plural verb because, soon, you realize, a pile is not a coherent unit.

They know

You’re not so good at hiding it any more. You’re barely keeping it together, and they are on to you. It won’t be long before they drag it out of you, your defining moment, the fulcrum on which your life revolves. You last hope of solace is hinged on the empty hope that it really wasn’t so bad. It stings when you remember the time an ally laid fallen begging for mercy and you looked the other way. What does the audience look like for that event? From what I can see from here, through the lights, in the shadowy balcony, it looks like Selfishness, seated next to, possibly, no it’s beyond me.

Nightmare

the memories we choose to recall
are well crafted highly polished and corrected
lenses focused on our unfiltered nature

darling—you’re smiling
               quirky
               cute
               wonderful
               you
and I was beaming purple and blue