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A truck is rolling over the bones of my neck and head. The vertebrae break, the brains pop and ooze.
the sharp pain of unrequited love invites the migraine in. These days she is a gnarled crone, touching the raw flesh of my brain with her cruel fingernails. She pokes my exposed nerves, exploring whether she’ll take up residence in my skull. If she gets in, I’m confined to my bedroom for a day or maybe two.
