‘Instead, I’ve evaporated’

21Feb11

said the armchair to the world. Cut off my arms and plastinate my skeleton. A soul in a dishwasher makes just as much sense. I’ve liquified all sensory information. Can’t we keep anything quiet? An abundant identification as a spinster. The children know too much. We had to set sail. A sudden rush of collapsing. Keep it down in there, we’re assembling another disappointment.

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