Sally is sick again and her feelings towards doctors are causing a huge fuss at the hospital
Too many times she has been made to lie down and hold still
Sally is nauseatingly good at keeping secrets but cannot keep a journal or a boyfriend anymore
Paperweighted down by postcards from fugue states, blank scantrons with no black
Bubble-lead eyes hint that Sally has 99 problems and intimacy is 97 of them
It was backbreaking work, relearning how to just be present inside her own body
In a newspaper and toothpick tiara she waves and smiles neon vacancies like a pornstar
She would rather have memory loss than world peace
Sally startles incredibly easily but is not afraid of men, the way we all thought she would be
Vultures get doodled in the margins of her sunshine and
She staples dew drops symbolizing drool to parking tickets
And is half asleep always and used to imagine naming things after witch hazel
Selling her soul to buy a vowel, to change her name to Gretel
Her definition of PTSD is too similar to her definition of nostalgia
Her insomnia to good use, she murdered any photograph of herself as a seventeen year old and swallows fingernails as a penance for everyone who the nights got taken out on
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