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We readily submerge ourselves in adrenaline, spittle, course cries and fists. We embody the disconcertion of each other’s lives. Blood tainted saliva gives you a candy-pink grimace. A knuckle-shaped bruise soils my muscle with burst vessels. In this moment we take each other by the collar. We see everything we hate in our lives. It's marred beyond recognition.

The anger melts away. We sink into a contented trembling heap. Between the copper-metal taste of blood and the slightly gritty texture of chipped teeth, there is a hint of absolution: delicious and mutual. We share a moment quite similar to lovers after they've both climaxed. We don't love each other, however, we love that we embody what we hate in ourselves. We love the fact that we can take those errors into our own hands and physically render them inert.

I shake my hand and squeeze it into a fist. The knuckles sting from your stubble that stripped them bare. I laugh coarsely and run my tongue across my phlegm-rimmed teeth. We sit, back-to-back, simultaneously vibrating... expelling wavering breath upon breath. My nostrils rattle with mucous and coagulated blood as I take in the fresh smell of clover. I can feel the cartilage in my bridge throb angrily at my condescension. The sky is so blue. It's so fucking blue...