there is a hiss, and the oil rises to the top of the water and stops
bubbling. steam. the sound of cracking. the oil burner is fractured
because i stubbornly let everything burn away, dissipate into the
atmosphere, before i refill it. nine of the clock and it's light outside and i feel like that bubbling
oil. hot with anger. i'm chewing on a pen. some people look upon me in disdain. they can go
to h*ll. i'm fuzzy. like haven't shaved in a week fuzzy. all natural
this week. i wonder how long i can go without shaving. be a real live
man. maybe i'm romanticizing a bit. she apologized last night while i was dreaming about apologizing to
her. then i woke, and realized i didn't know her at all. i don't owe
her an apology. i don't owe anyone a d*mn thing. ghost
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