Speculative fiction writer from New York. For published work visit francoamatiwrites.com or buy me a coffee at ko-fi.com/francoamati
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sometimes loving someone
means being a stranger
it means their world is better
without you
safer, without you
the mind can’t be clouded
by what it doesn’t know is missing

just think of all the pains you haven’t suffered
because of causes non-existent
backwards reasoning, maybe
addition by subtraction
enhancement by way of absence
simplicity
elegance
parsimony
less…is…more

sometimes loving someone
means being a stranger
availing yourself of
unnecessary complexity
sure — at times,
to love someone,
you got to be a stranger
unless love itself
is what made you estranged

Author note: The line, “Sometimes to love someone, you…


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I’ve always had a hard time facing certain parts of reality. It’s probably why from a young age I had an irrational fear of doctors, dentists, therapists, police officers, bosses, you name it. I couldn’t tolerate someone else telling me how I was doing.

Strangely enough, though, I always liked teachers. It’s probably because a good teacher didn’t just diagnose you or tell you what you were doing wrong. They added to you. They enriched you. It was their job to improve you.

A good teacher didn’t just treat you and send you on your way. They gave you information…


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We all know we’re weird. But we have this sort of detachment from it. Like, we partition the grotesque and humiliating parts of ourselves off from the well-adjusted “normal” version of us that we’ve devised for public consumption.

I think that’s part of why most people don’t like to spend too much time alone or in quiet places by themselves because that’s when they will start to hear that voice in their heads. The voice that knows all the stuff, the voice that contains all the memories and perceptions of all the things we’ve ever done.

So much of ordinary…


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You’d never ask a random person — someone who’s on their phone or laptop, for instance — to tell you what they’re looking at on that screen of theirs. How invasive, preposterous, creepy that would be. Yet, without fail, if you’re a person who reads paperback books in public, then you are just begging for people to be like, “hey, whatcha readin?” I’m telling you—you could be mid-sentence, mid-climax, devouring the greatest dialogue you’ve ever experienced — and now, you have to explain to someone what you’re reading. Ooof! Some person who is dying to know — it’s just tearing…


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uninspired poet person looks around and writes about the trees bored and tired poet person soaks up what he sees and spits it out, wipes it around throws in a bird, some bees then on the beach, some grains of sand scribbles beauty with his hand lazy, jaded poet person needs to touch the page to cure his ails to fix his fails to get up from his knees desperate, crazy poet person with nothing left to lose will fill the pen with blood and sweat scum and shit rolls the dice on love and loss remembers to forget that…


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Photo by Bali Demiri from Pexels

She had the air of someone who wanted to have a real conversation. That she simply needed to have an interaction with another human being before leaving work for the day. That was something I never really understood. Why do people continue to socialize and linger around their workplaces once their work is over?

Maybe I’ve just never worked at a place where I could tolerate being there for longer than the required time, to the point where I actually felt like it was worth staying longer just to learn about the other lonely people. …


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Photo by Ed Hinchliffe on Unsplash

It’s a zoo, this internet. And there are fewer and fewer parts of it that allow the animals to be themselves. But one guarantee is that people will always be more true to themselves behind the private enclosure of a computer screen than they will be out in public. That’s life. That’s technology.

I guess that’s a difference between humans and the rest of the animal kingdom. Out in public, in our natural environment, we act like tame creatures. Talking and behaving the way we think we should. Following the rules, pretending to be like other people. …


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Photo by Gabriella Clare Marinoon Unsplash

these empty calories won’t keep you alive this is no way to survive you need something bigger something better to thrive these little bits are tasty no need to ask why you put in all the hours for so little reward fruits should be sweeter when you’re working so hard butter’s disgusting when slathered on stale bread these wings are all bone and soon you’ll be dead it takes time to bake cake and you’ve got little to spare so keep licking that icing and going nowhere the only other way is to ask someone else maybe a baker or…


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Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash

words bounce around to the rhythm of the dishwasher the splashing and the pumping mechanical clicks and grinds of harmonic agitation, autonomous domestication these metal beasts work for me somehow their syncopated sloshes help me clear my mind make the sentences come out cleaner happens with the laundry too washer, dryer mashing and gnashing away at my soiled unmentionables it is dumb, automated work laboring away in the background in my background sweat-free progress filling the fervent air air filtered and warmed by equally talented robots none of whom are even aware of how their toil blesses me with the…

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