I want to cut your heart open and spill your blood on my white clothes. I want to rip your heart out and pump it with my blood so that you can finally feel something. don't you want to feel something? I want to put your heart back into its correct spot and zip you back up and watch you walk away with a smile on your face, only to turn around and tell me you forgot your shoes, and later your shoelaces. As if you were so occupied with other masses that you had forgotten even which way you were going, or that the right pair of shoes would finally get you there.