Well Lit


This is how I perceive god. The river in your psyche. The ebb and flow of the unknown. The widow of want. We’ve only got one bulb left but the room the room is well lit. I’ve worn down this spot enough for it to be noticeable. The universe is blowing up my pager! Everything I touch festers and explodes I always hold my hand over my mouth or around my throat. I just want anything else to happen. Someone has deceived me. No one is capable of forgiveness we’re ticks. I need a phone call or a hysterectomy. A pound of flesh but no blood spilled.

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by Anonymous

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