We are. We are, broken devolving pieces, untimely torn, histrionic, seismic, revolutionary. We are your thick blood, your thorny palms. We are your infinite abyss. We are your torn shirt. We are the sound of muffled fights. We are the depth of your bones. We are your painted void, your ragged breath, the scratches on your back. Your glacial standards. We are your untold stories and broken borders. We are your shuddering soul and your wandering lust. We are your hands. We are your uncensored thought, your burning ember. We are your unmatched desires and your riotous calm. We are your addictions. We are your carnal perversions. We are your hand up skirt in bathroom light. We are your climax, your collapse. We are your worst nightmare.