I’m looking at my nails now. They look like steam. White and brown, live and dead- like an opaque barrier between what is and what could be. At the end of my fingers are crusty crescents of a stale star.
In the ambit of possibility, where does beyond begin?
They bloom
Today was a tough and tight day. I am in pain somewhat. Heart is heavy and there's a knot in my stomach. But I am slowly beginning to ...
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