i feel like a clock with it's face busted in, shards of glass in a rim like teeth. teeth pointed inward. broken glass pointed inward. i've got all this shrapnal i'm lugging around in my torso- my limbs are fine except for that they're attached to it. i'm a barrel of discarded pieces from the glass blowing factory, all chucked into the trash with enough force to shatter. all this stupid stress over a couple of ten page papers & three finals. if i would just do the fucking papers, i could chill the fuck out. i could go back to nursing old wounds, speaking of absence & gaps.