The World Is Not Made of Glass
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The world is not made of glass or bone but it can be broken. I eat these shards of stone and unwind the wire that twists round my head as I add and subtract all that I know and believe. I bob and float on an invisible wave. I call out to phantoms. They talk back, their voices hoarse and weary. I evade the fumes of a toxic cloud. I consider all that I owe. I make a list of debts I will never repay.
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