<< Work >>
February 09, 2009, 4:39 p.m.

The fluorescent lights get to my eyelids, a washed out world, everything is a temporary file in a layer upon layer to-do list.

If I shift just a little of my weight toward the temporal lobe, I may become aware of this world. I may become alive with fear. I decide to sit, my mind stagnant, but orderly. I am the perfect resume.

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