find your old drunk poetry, which you only write when you're drunk, because you never have the guts to attempt something as brash as a calculated line break when you're sober.

You have an empty day
ahead of you you drive
to buy cigarettes for the break
they offer when you see red
lights light ahead of you
indicating you should
stop but you don’t do it
in time your knees crunch back
into your shoulders so
you’re closer than you’ve ever been
to sucking your own dick.

Ashtray, candle, beer can

I am reading a book while my friend sleeps.  Soft snoring and football in the other room make the heat from the register seem futile.  To detail the small moments that fill an overarching blanket of undetermined emotion is the only way I've found to document and understand the whole damn thing.  And really, it doesn't work quite right.

the mezzanine is somewhere between a fun little romp and the best commentary on being white, ever.

just keep writing things in your google drive. become satisfied with them and keep them there. forever.