I don’t need you… to save me, but it would be nice if you’d jump off the deep end and tread water with me for a while. I want you… to understand that when my head goes under the waves: I’m not doomed, and I’m not giving up — I’m just taking a breath. 


Smoke But No Fire

She makes you feel old and square… sort of like a prototype television set, with bent bunny ears, that can’t quite pick up anything but static. Literal blurry impressions and metaphorical snow flurries. She’s a frozen tundra nestled in the void of the digital divide.

You reach out your fingers only to stub them against her hard boundaries of glass. If you push her in just the right spot, in just the right way, she’ll shatter and let you close — but desire can only be manifested in reality if you’re willing to shed some tears; sweat; blood. Everyone gets a peek, but no sees the whole picture.

And if you crack her open — and peek inside — you’ll find nothing but burnt tubes and rusted coils. Frayed wires sputtering nothing, but nonsense and smoke. Clouds as dense as the mists that lead to the otherworld, heat as thick as the lava in hell… but no fire. 

Or at least that’s how you want to remember her. Something mythical and damning. A place where no mortal belongs. Somewhere beyond your reach or comprehension… because it helps you from feeling sad and obsolete. 

But she’s just another girl… who makes you feel old and square.


The Mundane Adventures Of An Amoral Fiction

Pretentious poetic musing and cryptically neurotic ramblings aside, life’s not bad:

I’ve been promoted 2 times in the last 2 months. I now have a somewhat fancy title and modest pay bump to celebrate… but I feel sort of silly patting myself on the back. I’m always surprised when I get positive feedback about my job performance. I kind of just assume that’s the way everyone should be on the job: passionate, professional, and get shit done. Also, I legit love what I do. 

M and I moved in together. It’s not perfect domestic bliss, but he makes me feel special, wanted, and safe. Sometimes he’s so nice to me that it makes me cringe… we get on each other’s nerves once in a while, but at the end of the day he’s always willing to apologize when he’s wrong, compromise when we both have valid points, and hold on to me tight when it seems like I’m drifting away. Maybe sometimes I wish he was more creative (and he probably wishes that I was easier to understand), or that he would drink a little less, but he’s the most emotionally mature partner I’ve ever had… and he cares enough about me to show he doesn’t want me to leave — ever. Once in a while we talk about what it would be like to be married… and I’m open to the idea, but it still makes me feel nervous. 

Friends? I’ve actually made a few real life ones! We watch Rupaul’s drag race and eat nachos on Mondays or Tuesdays. A few extra people show up, but it’s these two girls I work with — J and N — who really make me feel at ease. Plus, they laugh at a lot of my stupid jokes.

I… have a huge crush on N. Sometimes we snuggle or make out. M is totally cool with her. She’s a burlesque dancer (slash drag king) with a pink-purple mohawk. I think she is excellent in every fucking way.

Life is really changing for me… I’m getting out of my own head… and it scares the shit out of me. Then I feel bad about being afraid which leaves me feeling a bit sulky. Truthfully tho, the spells of depression have been much less frequent (although they can be more intense these days… if that’s even possible). 

Being mid-transition is always uncomfortable for me. I want things to always stay the same or just be instantly different. I hate the waiting period between recognizing you’re moving towards a new place and actually being there. 


No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden…

Sacrificing your memory to resurrect my sense of self.


And now it’s time to say goodbye.

There’s no poetry left for you.


Apparently nothing, at all

All my words are crammed down my throat, forcing me to choke down all the feelings that are expanding at an exponential rate inside of my chest. Sometimes I wish that I could just explode, liberating my particles in one spectacular big bang… but this is a slow tear. The kind where I feel like I can feel every molecule of my being shuddering in slow motion. Everything that has ever mattered to me is being carried away by the ripples… I feel so tired and alone right now… and I don’t understand why. Life is moving forward, things are improving, the future looks promising. I should be happy, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt sadder. 


“Threw you the obvious and you flew with it on your back. A name in your recollection, down among a million same. Difficult not to feel a little bit disappointed and passed over, when I’ve looked right through, see you naked but oblivious. And you don’t see me…”
— A Perfect Circle

INFJ VS Polyamory?

Someone asked me once, how I consolidated the INFJ trait/habit of being exclusive with a single partner with my poly opinions/experiences. I think the easiest way to describe it is that when you crave authentic and deep relationships with people (chemistry beyond the superficial level), you understand the value of feeling a connection with another person. I think when you find that, it seems tragic to pass up the opportunity to see where it’s going to lead… as long as you’re not neglecting, abusing, or exploiting the other person(s) you have found a connection with prior. 

Personally, I don’t think I could have maintained more than 2 partners at a time tho, unless it seemed really worth the effort (meaning an instant and incredibly strong bond with a new person).

Human relationships can be scary. They require a lot of energy… but I think when two strangers meet, feel a connection, and discover a bond that enriches both their lives and sense of self — that’s worth cultivating.

I’m not practicing a poly lifestyle now, but I didn’t experience cognitive dissonance as an INFJ identifying as poly.


Gravity Is A Killer Dentist.

I fell to earth just to land in your arms, but ended up smashing my face into concrete. My feelings for you are like a mouth full of shattered teeth; sharp and raw. My heart is a faulty parachute. It just lets me keep falling, and falling, and falling… and I can’t stop repeating your name as I plummet — anticipating the final splatter — because you will always be the only thing worth my last breath.


And at the end of the day, I’m just a mortal. Another face in a room full of nameless strangers. I am a common person. Which is sort of cruel when I really think about it… to have such a vivid, overactive imagination — a divine spark of creative spectacle — wrapped in such an ordinary package… So acutely aware that I’ll never be fractionally as beautiful as my own dreams.


I don’t just want to be the best you can do right now… I want to be the one you’ve been holding out for.


I Just Wanted You To Be Yourself.

"You don’t have to be rich to be my guy girl, you don’t have to be cool to rule my world…”

Baby you’re a long, hard road out of hell. You’re sex on wheels. A thrill kill kult of personality spitting neon blood all over the dance floor.

I like the way you open your mouth and smoke comes out. All your talk is just cheap skywriting, but I’m buying stock like a fat kid having a panic attack at an ice-cream truck. That is to say I want to lay my dollars down, but I’m hyperventilating staring at the thing I want.

I like how you stare at yourself in the mirror when you’re in a room full of people. I love how you shadowbox with your own perception when you’re alone in your head.

I’m drunk, right now, and I’m so in love hate lust with you. But I’m always thinking too much about who what I should or shouldn’t do.

There’s a pretty girl in the corner of my eye. She’s just your type, but she’s pressed up against me like the memory of a chemical burn I haven’t earned yet. I kiss her softly and wish I could pass her, like a love note, over to you. 

Honey, you’re the thing that makes me scream: "protect me from what I want." A post-modern placebo. The last dadaist standing. A greedy fly and a razor-blade suitcase. You’re with me everybody but not…

Nothing hurts like your mouth.


On Hiatus.

Greetings Lovelies,

I will be on an extended leave. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’m sure a lot of you will move on by then, it’s really just the nature of Tumblr. But, I will be keeping my blog in tact. I will also be creeping in the background and still featuring works for the #Prose tag when I can, for as long as I am still a tag editor. 

When I start writing in public again, this domain name edgeandvoidfriction.com and the domain edgeandvoidfiction.com will redirect you to any blogging platform or site that I post writing to in the future. It may be here, it may be somewhere else.

I want to say thank you, friends. Seriously. Deeply and sincerely you have been part of one of the greatest experiences I have ever had in my life. I’m not sure if that’s uplifting or sad… it simply is. 

See you on the flip side.



My precious daughter

God… This breaks my heart. But I would love a copy of the book. I’d be happy to donate some time or money to help. 


#my precious daughter

Kayla Elianna Campbell was my amazing daughter.  She died last December 9th when she slipped or fell off a broken dock and drown in a pond not 5 minutes from our house. I’m broken hearted without her.  She was joy. She was happiness.  I want to honor her by putting her writings and photography into a book.  I hope I can do that.  I want to thank all of you who supported her and were her friends. We were working very hard on our end to help her.  I miss her more than she could ever understand. There’s lots of misinformation out here about her and about what happened. I’d like to tell her story when I’m able. Thanks for loving her. It’s all she ever wanted - to love and be loved - and we will love and miss her forever.

(via aquietjoy)


There’s Nothing Like Losing You…

I know we’re all about the spectacle, but I’d like to put down this metaphorical missile launcher for a second. I want you to cool it with the literary flame thrower. Not that I don’t enjoy the welts, but it’s hard to talk to you like a normal human being when you’re acting like a poetic psycho. I’ll stop cackling like a social media maniac. 

Can I just tell you that I love you and not have you hold it against me? Sometimes I notice you pressing my own words against me, like a bulge in your pants that I can feel rubbing against my thigh. And sometimes I like to pretend that they weren’t my words at all; they were just the breath I stole from you, when we kissed, escaping from my mouth… I’m trying my best not to lick my lips, desperate to get a little taste of what we used to be. 

I’m in love with someone else now, but there’s a little pain in my chest that reminds me of when I belonged to you. There’s a part of me that’s still tethered to you, like a hot air balloon parked outside of an existential liquor store. I feel like I’m still waiting for you to run out wearing a ski mask, using me as a get away vehicle…

And I know I have to stop hurting myself like this. I know I have to stop wondering what you’re up to and how you’re doing. I know I need to shed my feelings for you, like a winter coat, if I ever want to fully enjoy the summer of my new life; new love; new me… but you loom over me like a shadow that blocks out the light, and you know I’ve never been fond of the sun, even if I am always looking for heat.

It’s taking all of my willpower to fool myself into thinking I have enough willpower to just let you go… but I’m sweating like a fiend and itching like a junkie.

Sometimes I wish you would tell me to fuck off… but I’m also afraid of you just leaving me alone. I’m afraid of how much I’m afraid of you vanishing into thin air. 

I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how I feel or what I want. I just know that I hate missing you; missing you feels an awful lot like missing myself. 

And I want to ask him, "please, help me." But the truth is I’d resent him for wanting to help me to separate myself from you.

Please, help me… 

I need to be so much stronger than this.