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| image: http://whrt.it/WLm3X0 |
Just junk.
The years are junk.
Surely they must be.
All these useless parts and broken springs, and leaking cans and torn sheets and,
damaged things,
accumulating,
growing
in the dark damp corners.
In spaces I cannot fit in anymore,
in spaces I cannot breathe in anymore.
There’s just no longer any space.
