you only need one hand to write: metaphors are the loneliest things. everyone i know meets with satiation. probably in some crowded and dim-lit lovers’ den, piling the heads of lions. would you describe yourself as future-oriented? it’s just me & all my ways of seeing. feeling & crazy like it could all go. nothing in my house should be irreplaceable. i do it all for like five people and i don’t hate any of them anymore. the rest of the crowd shifts in their seat like a massive & lurching stomach. it’s probably a gland thing. i was conceived and gladdening. less a scar and more a renewal, a dimple, a sudden chess-like opening.
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