Fragile
Even silence has a pulse,
a rhythm, only found in
shadows. The shadows where
blood flows down your arm
from the cuts of a dull blade.
These are jagged cuts
that zig zag along the vein,
and smile at the absurdity of
soft skin and the quiet
sound of a muted scream.
As I watch the blood pool
and coalesce on the floor,
I hear him laugh, saying,
“humans are such fragile things.”
Aztec Warrior / redzone 3.27.2026







