Unfamiliar places with familiar faces.
Sharp objects with intentional targets.
A piece of the flesh comes off so easily.
Sectional cutting, almost like a machine.
The container opens up,
and I’m filled with molten liquid.
Can’t tip or tilt my arm or I will spill out…
and lose everything.
It’s so hot – burning hot.  Why is it like this?
Where is the tissue, the bone
the things that are supposed to exist?
Is this what I am?
It heals as fast
as the action took to complete it.
Even the scars are now faded.
And awake, I can still feel it.