“I dream of metal and water and red that flows from my arms and legs. It smells like iron and soap. A breeze blows through, calling me. I see myself as myself, weightless, without hope. I don’t close my eyes. I want to see the devastation this hand will create. I want to see flesh open and separate, blood vessels exposed, crying for life as they are extinguished, left dried and wanting. Does skin tighten around a bloodless corpse? Does everything deflate once emptied? Blood, keeping us afloat amongst the barrage of matter and light and the overwhelming sense of absolute pointlessness.

I make a point. One drop. Then I trace a line and watch the shape unfold. I switch hands and do the same on the other, swirls of red clouds permeate the substance until equilibrium is reached. I don’t close my eyes. I don’t close my eyes. I don’t close my eyes but everything fades.”