“Coffee, most legally, give me,” were the first words that I said. I had a hole in my chest and fucking dump truck driving straight through my head, a tube running down to my juicebox briefcase, and those rice crispies cracklin’ in my neck meant that I had to stay. She called me that night so I asked her out to dinner. She refused, so polite, she had to wake up early and so did I. She asked me what I wanted to hear so Shield Your Eyes was the last thing that I heard as I drifted off to sleep. Did I dream, did I just float? It felt like nothing happened and I woke slow, alone, and hungry for caffeine. Did I dream, did I just float? Learn to sew and use my fucking tendons while I sleep, tube my throat. Losing bones is dirty fucking business, it’s real, real bad for business. It’s the worst kind of business, the kind that happens to me.
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