Oh, so cold.
Morning sweat.
They’ve started by stripping the limbs of the trees—thick, tall brown sticks.
But at least he’s talking.
Commas. No commas. Why does this have to be so complicated?
I think I’m falling asleep while I’m driving, and all the chips are gone.
Another x-ray in a year.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
I take my headphones off because I can’t possibly be hearing what I’m hearing.
“I don’t have any regrets…’cause I was me.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Eighty
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