Reduce, Reuse, Recycle


an open palm slowly and cautiously extends towards you with that familiar scent     a warm fragrance emits from its aged skin, tough from years of labor     but still, that hand is comforting and brings you to ease every time it is before you     on this occasion, it bears fruit     with its unassuming palm to the sky, it offers its gift, a gift for which you neither asked nor probably deserve     you see its life line; it is long and rich in color     slowly the palm lowers itself to meet you     you lunge, mouth open, teeth revealed, and in your haste bite its flesh, drawing blood     you realize that you enjoy its taste: savory and full-bodied     the hand is shocked, terrorized in fear     this has never happened     in its paralysis, you bite again and     again to quench your thirst, a thirst you didn’t realize you even had     time ticks, and before long the hand is incapable of escape     eventually, after you have left it maimed and mangled, the last ounce of life escapes its carcass

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