it still hurts. it does.
feel like having a squirming contraception placed right in the middle of your guts or winded after being knocked of your feet by a mob.
or better, hit by a stun gun.
you feel the shock, then the shots of pain that have you praying for numbness.

it shouldn't have. not after everything.
not after the recognition, after the resignation.
when you tought you have already replaced the venerable flesh with cold steel.

why the bloody fuck do I care still?

when it couldn't have been more obvious that they don't.

it turns out that the beating organ can do more than circulate blood, it can spasm and squeeze and freaking pains. when i can vouch that the particular function is safely eliminated.

oh, treacherous lump of  nerves, dormancy have suited you so well, why doth thou shed it?

what must I face now?