mmmmdccclviii

Chungus

doesn’t really mean anything.
it’s just nonsense says the
confidante. unless it’s a big
one, he adds. this seems true of 

a lot of words these days, at least 

per his ilk, who seem to relish in 

twisting meanings irreconcilably. 

the imaginary poof all enveloped

within a hoodie is ready for a 

night out on the town. hey, it’s
friday! it’s as if i just heard
that. i spring from where i’ve

been sitting all day, sprint down
the hallway, take a quick shower,
and then skip back to where i was

sitting before, where i’ll continue

to sit for a few more hours, until 

i have collapsed back into sleep.