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To Drown

What a relief it is


       To have an infinite sea of entertainment 


          To drown your sorrows in


              When you don't want to feel.




And what a pain in the ass it is


When you want to focus on anything real.



-CH 9/8/25

 
 
 

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All the Dragonflies died.  They die every winter.  They spend years underwater as little tadpole looking things, before crawling out of the water, sprouting wings, just to fly for a few weeks, before

 
 
 
A Masterpiece

“The version in my head of her is a masterpiece of selective memory.”  Whoa, who said that? . . . “I did.” Whoa. Who are you? “I am you.” No. I am me. “You are also you.” What? Dude, WHAT is going on?

 
 
 

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