We have devolved into mindless animals who peck and claw at each other's eyes as we run circles around our heads, expecting a new outcome with each revolution. Blind to the disarray, we spiral into madness and call it love. You've plucked out every feather, and consumed the meat that kept this porcelain frame from the cold. I can feel myself begin to crack under the weight of your frigid expectations. No pieces of me ever sated you; if I had a soul, you'd consume that too.