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Institutional Sadness

fig.09) right up front among the other sad and cheap items

I have a marvelous first paragraph already written, it's like gold! The only thing it needs is something that lingers. Something that sounds like a bridge, something compelling that will pull you in. At first it will start with, yes! Yes, the lights won't turn off when I'm in here all alone with the plastic housewares. Yes, there's panic in the stockboys heart. But I know where his liver is. I have eaten his lunch before. I have crawled between all of their small lockers in the hallway behind the timeclock. Yes, I've been wandering the store again naked. I've pulled down all the towels and moved the little bars of soap. I have sat here at the counter and waited my turn. I've taken a number and called out your name until I've become hoarse and afraid. Yes, I've been seen in the aisles. I've shouted at the merchandise and leant my ear to the confused. I've been wicked, this I have told them. I have been rude. I've stood here and yelled at the shoes. You were born of trash and that's where you'll get back to. Like the worst kind of virginity, you're perpetual and you're dogmatic. You're a waste of line and texture. You don't deserve to be gathered at the knees and tied around anyones waist. If I were your hanger I'd find a noose instead. If my pronouns we're she and her, I couldn't lose you by the seashore at high tide. You know that when they made you, something else had to die first. Unlike real fashion, you couldn't come back around if you were on a train traveling in circles. Only chemistry ever stank as much you. You're like a car crash that's slipped in dogshit. You're the reason that capitalism broke. You must be liberal to be hated this much. Economists and teenagers only ever say the wrong thing about you....

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