walking home at 12:12am
theyâre drunk and i canât make them out in the varied angles of the street lamps and headlights hitting their faces
itâs a group of three
theyâre fragmented, a late Picasso painting
i feel similar to them, drunk, but different,
consumed by the night just the same
i can imagine the story of my night isnât much different from theirs
at least it wonât be in a week or two
conversation,
laughter,
food, a night we wonât forget right?
the hallmark-esque pines and their pristine snow coating
remind me of the groundhog
that wanted my depression to stick around just an ounce longerââdonât worry you can put on your headphones and pretend itâs summer any time of the year!â
itâs still cold
brisk i would say, but the weather is even, respectable
my ears are numb but i donât remember unless i try to
the music in my headphones distracts me, and if it werenât for me writing these things down,
the only reminder that the world is still spinningâthat i havenât been trapped in my mind for the rest of eternityâis a rat enabling a motion sensor light in a broken down garage
how human
it would be an exceptional job, to be the garage rat to someoneâs existential thoughts
im almost home
a wheeze lingers in my airways
born from the laughter
of what is now yesterday
cough
good night













