Oh, so cold.

Morning sweat.

They’ve started by stripping the limbs of the trees—thick, tall brown sticks.

But at least he’s talking.

Commas. No commas. Why does this have to be so complicated?

I think I’m falling asleep while I’m driving, and all the chips are gone.

Another x-ray in a year.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

I take my headphones off because I can’t possibly be hearing what I’m hearing.

“I don’t have any regrets…’cause I was me.”