The moment you see something with your own eyes and feel injustice with all your senses, you cross an inner border, you know you can’t go back from there.
I am splayed out in front of you. I am all bare, blinking flesh and beat red limbs and matching moles on my inner thighs and you cant help but already hate the next man who gets to fall asleep here, with me. You can’t help but want to see the insides of his skull.