a disassociative messMature

Nothing is syncopated today.  It is muggy and rainy - the dampness has seeped into my flesh and it floods my airways; my hair is brittle and my skin is fragile and cracked - tiny labyrinthine tears arranging themselves in patterns like dead languages and hieroglyphs.  

I want cupcakes and rueful indie folk music and something heartbreaking to read.

The End

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