i said to my sewing machine i want to be packaged like an egg, a pillowed rotten egg. i want to be swirled like a root, a raw creeping root. i want to be empty like a hand, a grasping shiny hand. my sewing machine responded w 2 objects: a sleepy shirt a sleepy hat, currently sleep is just a feeling i have when im awake. the sewing machine is jammed. tmr the shirt is asking to be buttered in mud. tmr the birds are already making breakfast.