Today I decided I'd best cut my fingers off.
Nothing but burdens, they are.
So I held the cleaver above my digits and said goodbye..
I raised the blade above my eyes and beckoned the bloody mess yet to come, and considered the oddity of seeing my own fingers apart from my body, with no feeling.
I brought the blade down and let it sink into the cedar cutting board below my extremity.
"Ow." I thought.
Satisfied with my work, I placed the blade on the cutting board and held onto my trembling, bloody wad.
I kissed the warmth.
A moment later I went to pick up the blade to finish off the other hand... except I couldn't do it.
I just couldn't fucking do it.
I had no fucking fingers on that hand.
....
Half measures.
