Forty Eight

Forty Eight

I've already resigned and just recently started contemplating whether I should jump to the nearest mountain or climb over a barbed wire fence and hope to God that I have puked all of my insides out of my body. This is why I started reflecting: to fix the broken pieces and attempt to piece them all together with a glue inside of a glue gun. The sun is almost setting and I can call backwards as to feel the rest of my limbs breaking in halves. This is nowhere near perfect, but I am hunting down the wild animal that's been threatening to eat and swallow me with every single one of my bones and veins sticking out in all the weirdest places that you see them in.

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