Monday, July 28

Qu'est-ce que c'est

ONCE UPON A TIME I wrote a lot. I wrote every night and it passed the time, simultaneously brightening up my life and such, never costing me a great deal but putting in the effort to keeping me a little grounded, not too mad.
Six days ago my fingers fell off, but, with somewhat damaged sincerity, I assure you that it is nothing severe. All eight fingers came off relatively easily while I was doing the washing up; limp slowly into the brown water kites off a cut string. The knuckles are now lined up, useless. The meat around them has turned grey but is not odourous. Yes it makes me sad that my fingers are not doing the one thing they were meant to do, yet it will be okay. Everything will be okay, I tell myself. Everything will be okay.
My fingers went down the sink and took with them gurgles, bubbles and a real aggressive noise the plughole makes when it is burping in my face.
Everything will be okay.
So what?
Everything will be okay.
Everything will be just fine, I am sure.
Everything will be okay.

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