They won't tell you – the cutters
How much of the thing they enjoy.
No. They give back to you
Your limited expectations.
I am trying to stop.
It is so horrible.
It is so dark
So disturbing.
Sorry sorry sorry.
They see no way toward
Telling you the other.
The joy. The peace.
The relief as they cut.
Why did you think they did it?
Nor will they tell you
About how running their
Hand over the furrowed flesh
Made complex by the
Intricacies of the cuts half healed
Is a deeply, intensely,
Pleasurable thing.
The corrugations of the flesh
Just right under the fingers.
So. I will let you in.
There is a reason we cut.
It makes things
So
Much
Better.
They don't tell you
Because they are sure
That you won't understand.
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