tearing apart old stories like

Performing surgery on yourself

Irrigating veins with ink and brandy

Padding cavities with pages-to-be-trashed

that fell from your fist when you finally fell asleep

re-discovering forgotten manuscripts like

 Excavating yourself

Looking too long and too closely

into the dark parts of yourself you thought

you had chased away with

“Your smile lights up the universe”

scribbling down new ideas like

 What happens when you’re done working on yourself?

Will there be nothing left to say?


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