August 2011
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I couldn’t stand my insides. The stinking of blood and the fush of organs working. I stood along the railroad track wanting to crawl under the train. The star inside me grew larger and larger. It began to show through a mark growing on my leg and the white scars on my fingers from pocketknives. I learned how to penetrate numbers. I crossed the portal of time gleefully. I grew a row of nipples on...
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pittedpeach:
She thought of her body: the rubbery dampness of it. How it served her. How it wearied her.
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