Fragment of A Lover’s Discourse
@discoursamoureux.bsky.social
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Sometimes the touch is an erasure. Another feint. A hiding in plain sight. Tap in, tap out. Figures that only exist in the electronic interstices.
October 8, 2023 at 5:15 PM
Sometimes the touch is an erasure. Another feint. A hiding in plain sight. Tap in, tap out. Figures that only exist in the electronic interstices.
Reposted by Fragment of A Lover’s Discourse
You couldn’t see me among the mirrors and the steam and the sliding between platforms. I could never see you, were you ever really anything, you feel like nothing to me.
September 23, 2023 at 8:35 PM
You couldn’t see me among the mirrors and the steam and the sliding between platforms. I could never see you, were you ever really anything, you feel like nothing to me.
Surely Valentine’s Day is the Day for Amorous Discourse?
She writes that…
He writes that…
They don’t write to each other.
They write to me.
He writes that…
They don’t write to each other.
They write to me.
February 14, 2025 at 11:19 AM
Surely Valentine’s Day is the Day for Amorous Discourse?
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Do we use the moon as a conduit for touching?
September 25, 2023 at 11:07 PM
Do we use the moon as a conduit for touching?
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What are they doing there? What am I doing there? Are we looking for each other?
September 21, 2023 at 12:43 PM
What are they doing there? What am I doing there? Are we looking for each other?
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October 4, 2023 at 10:56 AM
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Reposted by Fragment of A Lover’s Discourse
Sometimes the touch comes too soon.
October 6, 2023 at 4:06 PM
Sometimes the touch comes too soon.
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The mirroring of bodies now repeats in posts. Your text echoes mine, draws a line in electronic flutters. Or does it?
September 23, 2023 at 8:36 PM
The mirroring of bodies now repeats in posts. Your text echoes mine, draws a line in electronic flutters. Or does it?
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The sound of notifications on, so you don’t miss the one that you are desperate to hear from. The sound of notifications off, so you miss the silence of the one you are desperate to hear from.
October 1, 2023 at 9:18 PM
The sound of notifications on, so you don’t miss the one that you are desperate to hear from. The sound of notifications off, so you miss the silence of the one you are desperate to hear from.
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A lull in the weather. And so we begin again in a fresh register. The edges of two bodies. Moons which still seek to touch. Private tightropes and public tightropes. What operates as a rope?
October 4, 2023 at 8:58 PM
A lull in the weather. And so we begin again in a fresh register. The edges of two bodies. Moons which still seek to touch. Private tightropes and public tightropes. What operates as a rope?
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We will return to the violences of looking. The violence of image making, where subjecthood bursts from the eye. She knows he watches from a distant chamber.
October 5, 2023 at 1:26 PM
We will return to the violences of looking. The violence of image making, where subjecthood bursts from the eye. She knows he watches from a distant chamber.
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Look. Don’t look. Power struggles. But don’t forget I’m paying the most attention when I’m looking studiously away. Just because you don’t catch my eye doesn’t mean my eye isn’t there to be caught.
September 22, 2023 at 8:58 PM
Look. Don’t look. Power struggles. But don’t forget I’m paying the most attention when I’m looking studiously away. Just because you don’t catch my eye doesn’t mean my eye isn’t there to be caught.
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Watchful silence. A silence brimming with implication. You are the one who waits / I am the one who waits. Looking without speaking / the loved object never speaks / prepare to speak.
October 3, 2023 at 7:05 AM
Watchful silence. A silence brimming with implication. You are the one who waits / I am the one who waits. Looking without speaking / the loved object never speaks / prepare to speak.
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What am I doing here at 3am? What am I ever doing? Waiting for a sign. A flicker. A corresponding light.
September 21, 2023 at 8:08 PM
What am I doing here at 3am? What am I ever doing? Waiting for a sign. A flicker. A corresponding light.
Reposted by Fragment of A Lover’s Discourse
She writes that…
He writes that…
They don’t write to each other.
They write to me.
He writes that…
They don’t write to each other.
They write to me.
March 27, 2024 at 1:12 PM
She writes that…
He writes that…
They don’t write to each other.
They write to me.
He writes that…
They don’t write to each other.
They write to me.
She writes that…
He writes that…
They don’t write to each other.
They write to me.
He writes that…
They don’t write to each other.
They write to me.
March 27, 2024 at 1:12 PM
She writes that…
He writes that…
They don’t write to each other.
They write to me.
He writes that…
They don’t write to each other.
They write to me.
Reposted by Fragment of A Lover’s Discourse
The Moon that touches me, also touches you. Though it may not be this moon, and it may not be this night.
September 25, 2023 at 10:46 PM
The Moon that touches me, also touches you. Though it may not be this moon, and it may not be this night.
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A silence that isn’t a silence if you know how to parse it. A silence of holding one’s breath, where the sound of oneself is exponentially magnified until it drowns almost everything, this is the sound of waiting for your lover alone inside your mind.
September 30, 2023 at 4:16 PM
A silence that isn’t a silence if you know how to parse it. A silence of holding one’s breath, where the sound of oneself is exponentially magnified until it drowns almost everything, this is the sound of waiting for your lover alone inside your mind.
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A pair of deletions in one place, an indifference that’s impossible to maintain. An echo of a sentiment elsewhere. A door slams, if a green light is a door. Tears. This is where online doesn’t mean not real.
October 1, 2023 at 8:17 AM
A pair of deletions in one place, an indifference that’s impossible to maintain. An echo of a sentiment elsewhere. A door slams, if a green light is a door. Tears. This is where online doesn’t mean not real.
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Waiting waiting waiting waiting waiting. They arrive in a glare of green light. You flee, immediate and guilty. You’ll be back though.
September 22, 2023 at 6:48 AM
Waiting waiting waiting waiting waiting. They arrive in a glare of green light. You flee, immediate and guilty. You’ll be back though.
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You leave a light on for me, when all the other lights in the house have burnt out. It’s barely perceptible. I choose not to see it, yet there’s a corresponding giveaway lick of incandescence from my window. I keep my curtain shut.
September 29, 2023 at 8:05 PM
You leave a light on for me, when all the other lights in the house have burnt out. It’s barely perceptible. I choose not to see it, yet there’s a corresponding giveaway lick of incandescence from my window. I keep my curtain shut.
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I see what you’ve done, and I respond by withdrawing. You can’t see me now. Where there is nothing read that I love you.
September 23, 2023 at 8:40 AM
I see what you’ve done, and I respond by withdrawing. You can’t see me now. Where there is nothing read that I love you.
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The loved object does not speak, is not a speaking subject. We flit from platform to platform searching for refusals of the connexion.
September 20, 2023 at 10:51 PM
The loved object does not speak, is not a speaking subject. We flit from platform to platform searching for refusals of the connexion.
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our entangled wakes
linger - surveillance breadcrumbs,
footprints to follow
linger - surveillance breadcrumbs,
footprints to follow
we still pulse intermittently within each other. The city is a tinderbox of possible encounters. You are at the bar next to my gate. I am at the tiny museum across the street for the single hour of a specific event. Metadata contrails.
November 13, 2023 at 7:44 PM
our entangled wakes
linger - surveillance breadcrumbs,
footprints to follow
linger - surveillance breadcrumbs,
footprints to follow
Reposted by Fragment of A Lover’s Discourse
An unsolicited delivery of text messages, and yet another platform with its implied etiquettes. A rain of texts, a haze of allusions, slipping between languages, between modalities. What response is there to make? the texts need fully translating first.
October 2, 2023 at 4:41 PM
An unsolicited delivery of text messages, and yet another platform with its implied etiquettes. A rain of texts, a haze of allusions, slipping between languages, between modalities. What response is there to make? the texts need fully translating first.