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Faye Faye
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today,
i can’t look at spinning things. the bicycle wheels. the glass plate in the microwave. my dad going to work. windmills.

yellow grasses sitting burned under the pitch black sky. i cant look out from the window. i cant even open it. dry wind stings my skin.
itches.

in the kitchen, ants are everywhere. i kill them, their little bodies trembling eating the blue dust. i feel so guilty. i hold the baby really close to my ribcage. i want to put it inside my ribcage so we can be closer. so there's no room for other things.

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