I once met someone who had been on a public bombing on a subway. He thought he had been wounded by shrapnel "My abdomen was on fire, I kept looking for blood but none came out..." He told me his vision was shaking, and he was deaf save for the constant ring of a shattered eardrum. "I was disoriented, and I thought that maybe my wound had been cauterized" This was not the case. He was not harmed by shrapnel aside from a small laceration above the knee. The intolerable pain in the stomach was caused by the energy of the explosion. In a confined area, the disrupted air causes a vacuum effect which shatters eardrums and turns the stomach inside out. I asked him if it still hurts. "Only when I dream." (Shadows kiss in the garden, and the nightingales weep at their touch) As he looked at me I wanted to throw him off the train. "It seems like death is the only way out right?" he asked as if he knew what I was thinking. "Do you want to die?" I said quietly. He laughed and looked at me with questioning pity. "You're so young son...I can feel your rage, that need to prove yourself. Have you killed anyone before?" I just stared at him coldly. (sometimes I dream of sleeplessness, sometimes I feel like I'm alive) When I didn't respond he smiled and ed his head to the side. "So that's how it is then? Fine I won't push you for an answer. You're too young to realize you are not indestructible." Now it was my turn to laugh. "So you think because you have survived an act of aggression you can give me advice on life? You don't know me." (the teeth of madness jump, jump, dance, and sing) His smile widened. "you're too proud son. You can kill me if you want to, but I'm already dead. I died when it became painful to dream..." Sunset on the horizon. I imagine carving ugly words into my arms and spattering the dark blood onto white flowers. Howling as the city crumbles and hooks render flesh, exposing muscle, cracking bone, ripping nerves to be sewn in lace patterns on dissected back, starving dogs tearing throats and fighting for the consumption of rotting corpses. "This is my stop. It was nice meeting you son, take care of yourself..." (Just some random thoughts. I am actually very nice. Seriously, I'm a slice of honey pie...I love puppies and hate mean things)