The blood on your bed… Well, consider it a gift from me to you. It’s from the heart, like your fist to my lip is from yours, if your heart exists anymore. Has it disintegrated with burning through your ears? Or is it burning your flesh like this scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital?

No.

-It’s not so pleasant;;;
-It’s not so conventional;;;
-It sure as hell ain’t normal;;;

But hey, we will deal…