The blog that should have been another blog, but is this blog now and exists for the purpose of never being read.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
potato chips
What if I am only the bag it came in? Empty now. My insides have been eaten up, and nothing but greasy discharge left inside. There is only so much of everything, and sometimes there is just no more. Can't move, any step is a misstep. mistake. My circuits are down, my signal is busy. I am broken heart. I am failed mission. I am disappointed - ment. I am thirst. I can't find you. You can't send a letter to a bird. Closeness and distance are equally uncomfortable.
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