Made a deal with the devil? he says, and your champagne-riddled brain cannot begin to explain how the deals were made decades ago and everything else you do it just pretend. You put up an out of office-reply in your inbox, you close the tabs, you close the year, what a year it's been and you cannot explain the ways your body had bended and grown since last time the clock came around. We hand over presents at a distance, everything is still surreality, we enter the third year of melting clocks in the desert, but we know the drill now, it's easier to dance to new harmonies when the beat is the same. I scored a few takehome tests from the drug store on 3rd street, there's one here for you when you need it, the messages come across like drug deals.
A holiday arrives, another year leaves. I fall asleep with the string lights blinking, I am not
sorry.
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