april 29 2026

I am neat and nice and packaged tight. Despondent, but tight. Like they want me! I am pulled up and out of my victimhood by my helpless sisters, and I could have sworn they had made that choice themselves. I could have sworn… Nonetheless I am consumed wholly again, but with a toothy smile this time. What a useless, useless world without me and my sisters smiling. All the long day I am re-packaged over and over, until my knees and elbows look the same and I am no more than one man could take. I am no more than one man could take. The goal is a fluid and languid life, no bumps or creases or folds or tears. I do not shed a tear for what I lost. What I gained will keep me up long enough for some money to be made. Not by me, or by my sisters, but by the hands that helped me up and kept me at their side while my knees locked up. That always happen when you’re wound too tight.