My need for cleanliness broke the toaster.
I could not have done it all by myself.
My neurosis jabbed deeper into my brain.
I had to get out the crumbs.
My need to get that last piece of toast.
I was stuck in the four corners too.
My psychosis whispered into my ear.
I hear the sound but it is not there.
My shaking hands couldn't have broken it.
I pulled out the sliding contraption.
My fingers dug into the grooves.
I was no longer dirty.
My body became alive next to it.
I plugged in the cord.
The toaster never turned off.
My bread was really burnt.