words as photographs

No value to the conversation So you switch off the connection. Hang up. Hang up now! Hung up again. Idle chatter ephemerally dropped into the void. Done and done Say hi to the busy tone.

Masters of Sex, Season 2. Minor spoilers.

I don't see how one could become friends under the guise of pursuing a relationship. It doesn't feel right. I'd rather keep talking to reach some kind of conclusion, and come out of another life experience with some sort of understanding about at least myself, but hopefully mutual. Some women want emotional bonding like men want physical. They lock on to that, unwilling to consider getting to know one another at all as friends, and then maybe build upon that. Of going through a period without expectations or loaded exchanges, and just take the time to get to know someone. No, straight to attachment. Straight to the mess of emotional vulnerability, when intimacy is the most scary thing in the world. And do they really want intimacy? Do they know what that entails? That you're left completely naked and the slightest misunderstanding has the sound of a mountain breaking and crying and you just want to dress up the armour again and fight? No. Generally, where men go fo...

Entertaining, yet I didn't want to get up on that stage. I can't carry this light alone in my hands. I brush my black suit, I settle my black tie over my white shirt. The light spills and falls to the ground, seeping through my fingers, glints captured on pearl cufflinks. The room goes a darker shade of cynic. Now I'm the judge. I take off my wig, I'm a bailiff. I put on a burlap sack on my head, I'm the executioner, Silence is instilled, down falls the crimson curtain, the speech is halted and stilted. Communication breakdown. Why was I on a stage? Why am I a defendant? Why no good deed goes unpunished? Unlit and uncared for, this thorny rose of truth in me withers as we go from white to grey to black. Bleeding me again, I'm still holding to the stem. Impossible to let go, I'd be unmoored and adrift without it. Acceptance of the pain is due, it's unavoidable and it will be comforting. Such is the cost of being grounded within myself, the three constan...