Is There Anybody Out There?

1-800-273-8255     
Beep, beep, beep, beep,  
Crisis hotlines don’t ring anymore; only busy signals

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Telegraphist, please: Three dits, three dahs, and three dits, to run them together without letter spacing. S.O.S!

Silence…

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Maybe smoke signal?

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FACES

 

Metropolitan Love Affair

Finalrope

And somewhere far in the cavity of my skull, the nagging question; Will I walk the rope tomorrow or leave this place for good?

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Drunken late night talks. Sloppy, stumblingly phrases effortless expose skeletons lurking the closets of most lovers. But not you, Beirut.

Buried below the glitter – rise apartments, civilizations in a layer cake of sediment. Sandwiched between earthquake ridden centuries.

This sack of bones cannot be uncovered by world-renowned excavators.