A dispassionate white sun shone at the summit of the sky. I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife.
Friday, May 17, 2013
Ripping And Crawling
I feel like ripping off all of my skin today. I can't.
The only thing that seems to help is writing poetry, but I left my notebook at home. Fuck.
And I have my therapist appointment today too.
I can't.
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