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get the words out.
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The impulse crawls over me like a thousand little spiders. One minute, I'm eating slowly, thoughtfully. Nourishing myself. The next, I can barely taste the food anymore, but not a part of me cares. I bite greedily, I chew quickly. I swallow. My eyes flutter: the experience is opioid.(more)
my fingers move across your skin, one by one, like spiders limbs, and you don't turn to look at me, you don't glance up from the t.v., and i'm the spider fast and sleek, with deadly eyes, too many feet, but the web i'm in is not my own,(more)
I'm convinced there's a good joke somewhere in the fact that God gives us diseases we can't pronounce, but I've never been able to work it out.

I didn't know I had lymph nodes until they decided to start killing me. Apparently we all have these tubes o(more)