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Month: December 2019

Eight

I I have a clockwork heart. Meaning that it breaks occasionally and needs fixing. But instead of hiring someone to fix it somehow I either put it back together or it majestically jumble-fucks itself back to some working semblance so I can keep on ticking. Both are confusing. I can’t google myself. I mean, I can. But I can’t google how to fix what I am feeling from any moment because then, “the google,” as I like to say to anyone younger to drive their eyelid to start twitching–tells me to snort some yoga and put on a face mask…

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