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Kitchen Knife

I am putting the dishes in the kitchen away. It is amazing how much we can control. I am holding a knife. In one swift movement, I could chop off my hair. In two swift movements, I could let you see the secrets and tears and salty wounds and memories tucked inside both of my wrists. I could…

Disappear….
Vanish. Smoke rising up into the air.

…if I really wanted to. A kitchen knife in my hand and no feat is too large. Nothing is impossible. If you set your mind to it.
The knife is tucked away into his bed. Sleeping. Glistening memories line his forehead. If I wake him up, then I would be able to fly to The Land Of A Million Nowheres. But I let him sleep. I can wake him up tomorrow. He’ll be rested then. And easier to control.





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