I feel like I’ve known you forever, you fry me chips, I sit on the counter, even though you’ve told me not to, my fingers pulsing against the plastic menus, as I compose the drum beat from a song I’m going to write about you. You lean over, gloved hand on my glowing cheeks, a…

I’ve had so many epiphanies, that I keep them on the shelf, they stare with accusation, because I couldn’t fix myself. I stare back, back on my bullshit, face to face with my problems, and everything that comes with being a perpetual, pretty mess, missing opportunities to find perfect peace, because I can’t accept that…