A social media tool that annihilates all trace of your existence.

You used to drink in order to relax. Now you drink in order to drink.

You lie awake for hours unable to remember if the word is epitaph or epitath. Falling into blackness through a two-letter hole.

Visualize your safe place.
I can’t think of one.

Hearing the instruments, missing the music.

The promise of the future has receded into the distant past.

I think I can safely say, with great pleasure, your best days are well behind you.

Apparently it’s The Summer of Josh Brolin. If one is to fully engage in contemporary life, one needs to grapple with the notion of Josh Brolin-ness.

When Rotten sang no future
this is what he meant

Your thoughts and words become your prison walls.
Luckily someone has left the key.

Such beauty that the only suitable response would be to no longer exist.

Walking around at the end of winter sighting fellow orphans—diminished piles of snow and dog shit—and mouthing a silent greeting. Hello friend, somehow we made it through.