(no subject)
An open palm is threatened by many sorts of demons. An extended arm is presented an even greater threat. The curse of my body is my regenerative limbs; my outreaching arms have been host to a number of tragedies. With palms skyward I expose veins, and with one slice they are capable of draining the blood from my body. One tempting little indent on the paper bag of my innards is made and I fatigue. My curse prevents the full effects of this tragedy, and I am revived before I am void. I have also witnessed the severing of extremities and the massacre of my limb. I watched as they slowly drew their tools from their arsenal and poised for the attack. My arm was willing and I looked away. Saddened, I permitted the pillage until I was reduced to fragments. Following the attack I reluctantly peered back at the appendage and, to my dismay, viewed an arm and a hand, palm-up, in their entirety.