Chat

It's okay. Had another dream where my mom inexplicably comes back from the dead. She even joked about how we'd have to reevaluate how we think of the situation. It's wild how going back to sleep before my alarm can just ruin the rest of my week. There's a lump in my throat that just won't go away. I feel guilty writing these thoughts out, hell I'm tearing up now because I know so many other people have real problems and there's this fucking election, and my wife's work is so much more difficult than mine and I haven't a leg to complain upon.

poem

I wish

to beat my fists against this desk

until they are bruised and bloody

for that is something

I may yet control

Thank you for allowing me to vent. Much love to you all.