the knife in your hand, a set of teeth pressed deeply into someone’s shoulder. the hand around your neck, the nails along their spine. the cruel word heard in a moment of passion, the spit in your face before you leave. the pinch in your lungs as you run, the pinch of the needle as it breaks the skin. the despair of abandonment, the ache of mourning. the cradle, the bed, the grave. ultimately you cannot escape: inflicting and being inflicted upon, by your hand or someone else’s.
live and rejoice: at least you fucking feel everything.