I feel the same way I feel everyday.
Again I thought about taking a roundabout route home, through Boston or San Fransisco. Again I though about running a red light and again I felt the urge to tell someone a truth that would get me fired in an instant.
My fingers are not pretty. They're gnarled and awkward like snakeskin hanging from a wall, lumpy and scaly. They're bleeding. My fingers are bleeding and the blood tastes nothing like copper. It just tastes like the inside of a body would taste.
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