– Bestir thee, O broken one, for there is work to be done.
– Aye. So I am gathering up all of my selves to do it.
– All of thy selves.
– All of my selves. All that is left of my mind and my body and my heart – and my soul also. I shall gather them up now, and hurl them against the rocks of the world. I shall watch the yolk of my selves splatter, trickle down in nauseating yellow sluices.
– And then thy work is done.
– These slow-trickling sluices I shall gather up again, in old ice-cream cups, again and again and again after each hurling, until all of my selves have trickled away past all gathering. And still my work shall not be done.
Hi there! This is nice; I love it. Keep it up.
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This is so refreshing! I’d love to read more of you work 🙂
Aeriko @ The Reading Armchair
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