I made my chair sing, by forcing it to spin, by murdering its springs, and you wrote about that: made it ridiculous and sad. I’m cutting up your lace. I’m slicing out a face. I’m divining a new race to supersede the humans, except for me and you, man. We’ll wear them on our heads. We’ll keep them as our pets.

I made my hands bleed, by thinking of what he might need. By thinking of the rules for me to heed, that I’ve completely ignored. And I’m completely bored: rararararararararararar.