Sunday, December 18, 2011

White

Today my hands don't feel like my own.
They are clumsy and unfamiliar.
And warm.
Usually they are like ice.

And when I press my teeth together, I feel an electrical charge.

I think I will run away and become a hermit. I told Francesca and she said "Oh. Okay dear, if that will make you happy".
I don't know that it would make me unhappy.

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