Love of jargon, inversely proportional to love of truth.

Looking for the few right words that will fix everything.
Maybe next time.

I already had those side effects before taking the medication.

The Hangover Decades

The future hasn’t aged well.

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.

In this work I have struggled to maintain the proper tone of operatic self abnegation.

Things you thought were important turned out not to be important.
Things you thought were not important turned out to be important.

A tiny miscalculation, compounded daily.

She had hung on by a thread, but it was an unbreakable one.

Only through cat gifs can we subdue our fear of death.

Thoughts seemed to harbor great peril, but their absence even more.