consumed
by this story
i write
until
my fingers
start to twitch and
still
it's not enough it
will not ever be, not
until it lives.
my yolky sanity
breaks
in two,
and i spill
like cider
between
and
over
the edges while i wait
for you
to sign me
giving birth
to pieces
inside
of me and
i eat breakfast,
blissfully,
like a champ. i
have never even won
anything...
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