I set myself on fire, god damn it.

If I can live through that, I can live through anything.
Not because it’s the worst thing to happen to anyone
ever. Just because I laughed my way through it. Yeah,
OK, I’m scarred. but now I have an extra heart on my chest.
I have non-slip grips under my arms,
and maps under my breasts
( easy access, my dear).
I have raw red islands on my arms reminding me
to write, write, write
(but I don’t).

I am….
I am.
That’s enough now.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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