I wake on the morning of New Year's Eve to find my mind folded precisely in half with a crisp, perfect crease. The sides kept carefully separate and smooth with thick, cold, rolling fluid, rolling out onto my fat and silent tongue. Thickening frictionless greed setting around the teeth, face smeared with my unconvincing smile, warm, unkept breath. My blood has turned to ham. My heart is only able to talk in ridiculous lies. 1999