apostrophe

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Photo by Junchen Zhou

apostrophe
is valid art…
if you’re not crazy
and you’re talking to someone
who isn’t there
well, that’s just poetry
that’s radio
that’s confession…
what else are we supposed to do
when no one in our lives
can bear to listen
to the intolerable truth, the ugly stuff
the unpleasant and the picayune…
apostrophe isn’t just punctuation
it’s a monologue of revelation
it’s a call to the gods for intercession
it’s a serious longing
for meaningful digression…
it’s mistakes of the flesh laid bare
this is not lunacy, I fucking swear!
no madness in this internal skid
only maladaptation, a refusal to swim
in waters too shallow for even a doggie
to paddle — apostrophe is swaddling clothes
I’m no infant, but even for a functioning adult
there’s as much need for comfort as catharsis
and you know how much I revel
in the sound of my own voice…
it abates your bastion of cruelty
it soothes in the stillness of a quiet morning

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Garbage Notes:

Okay, so apostrophe for the purpose of this poem is when a character directly talks to someone or something that is not physically there.

Maybe it’s someone who died. Maybe it’s someone who you haven’t seen in a while. Could be a deity or a god. Maybe it’s like your imaginary friend or something. I don’t know.

Whatever it is, it looks like you’re talking to yourself, but I guess technically you’re not. Might look like you’re crazy. But you’re actually expressing valid emotion.

And this got me thinking of all the times I sort of casually talk to myself. I wonder, am I actually talking to myself, or am I talking to this metaphorical stand-in for like the ideal friend? Or mentor? Or parent? Or whatever…

I know that sounds kind of sad, but many people have difficulty expressing themselves fully and honestly to the people around them. Maybe it’s fear of judgement. Could be an inability to put things effectively into words.

I’m not imagining things—it really is true that people struggle more than ever to communicate what’s in their heart. Technology makes it harder. Perhaps it feels safer to put on a fake front. But, genuine vulnerable connection can be hard to find.

I think it’s actually sort of healthy and cathartic to be, for lack of a better word, your own best friend. So in a way, self-talk becomes its own form of intercession.

For me, my writing is an extension of this self conversation. When I write I almost always envision another person who might be listening or reading or reacting to what I’m saying.

Maybe it makes the writing better. Maybe it doesn’t. But at least personally it feels good. And that’s something.

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Franco Amati 2026

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