A little cut. Yeahhhhh just like that. A little one. Right on the side there. Yup. A real beauty. I gingerly set aside my blade onto the sparkling white desk and stood up, to admire my handiwork. "Perrrrfect." I smiled. Who was I. The victor, or the victim?
It was a little too messy, not messy enough in other words. The body, my body, was staining the white carpet. Little red dots everywhere, even some pretty big ones decorated the once dull and lifeless carpet. At once, maddened by the purity of the evading white fibres, I knelt and smeared the wound face down into them, rubbing the wound furiously, gripping the limb so tightly. My limb, my now covered-in-little-white-fibres-limb. Sighing, I rubbed it onto my jacket, presuming it would not stain my expensive trench-coat with either blood or those horrid white fibers.
There, now those lips will never ever kiss anyone again. I smile, I'm tempted to, of course. I touch my new lips longingly, who knows what synapses are snapping at the touch? Painful ones, I'm sure. The mouth contorts achingly, further separating finely cut skin until tiny saplings of crimson, grow out from beneath. Pray tell, what happened to you, victim! Who was it, when?
Of course I'm numb! Everything's inside, can't you see? I'm transparent. My skin is so pale, I can see my life pounded and convulsed along, through thickets of blue vines wrapped around the very flesh I am clothed in. Verily, I see my truths…can you?
……When all you've tried is living, why not take a walk on the other side, Joey?
……
….
…Oh sorry….I already made you walk it…