Fan Mail
I wrap myself up in writing, in tumblr, in dying because I don’t want anything to touch my skin; I don’t think I can handle it. So much time spent taming tigers and sleeping with dreamers put too many miles on my soul. Those numbers creep out and onto my sleeves, they droop in my eyes. So, I cover up. I hide behind clever jokes and anecdotes to prevent being exposed. Often I think to myself, “For writing, I would put myself out there for writing.” Because she’s all that I have. But, life has already shown that she will not have me.
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