So you fuckin promised me, or was it I
who promised me? It’s a sea of trillions
of paperclips, not one the same size as
any another, as little tearful, grotesque,
moldy parts of me slither all around all
of their metals until consciousness, she
crashes me hard with realization that I
am all hate, full of inability to migrate with
my fellows, and today, I have nothing to
wash away the insanity, the hate storm,
but the weather today was so fine.