Psyche’s Dissent
Published in Punk Noir
May 2024
I told her I don’t want to. I didn’t want to open my heart here. This is exactly like surgery and how could I open my body on this carpet in front of this man with no sterilization, no security. You wouldn’t replace a valve on a Wednesday night with no supplies and no backup, not so much as a toothbrush.
But you have a floor she says. Floors are for feet. And backs. And laying flat on the earth when you’ve been so human that your body can no longer take it. And dying. Love is as dying. Bleeding out on the floor in red or in salt. You can die anywhere.
I don’t want to die here. Then you’ll never know what it is to live.
