Bleeding...I am, I am...I am water, I am just blood. I am made of a substance that spillsthat is who I am inside, an ocean of blood.the waves, they come they go, I go surfing inside my body.I don't feel this blood, leaking out. I am not just blood. I am moreI am lips and eyes and...I am more...they only ask about my blood typeI tell them I forgot. Then they put the needle in my arm, I want to feel the prick again, the prick feels like something.I can't feel my own face. Or my pain. Or bleeding leg.I fell down, and I'm bleeding. I was dizzy in a room full of strangers and I lied about my blood type.I know. I know it. I know everything...I just don't remember. Plato and I are dancing on imaginary tables. Where is the table? what is a table? Who named it table? Why does everyone agree that it should be called table. No one protests but me. I am the only one who thinks there might be a better word such a thing. I want to make up words and speak in tonguesI cannot say, I cannot say what I want to say in this language. This fucked up spelling that was made for imaginary people.How can a person like me remember all these words? I want my own language. I want to speak in noises like animals do.I'm an animal. with blood on my fingers.My insides are bleeding so heavy, between my thighs blood spills.I can't sit, I can't stand. I am paralyzed. I am nobody but bloody mess of a woman.I am a woman today they told me. Why, why does this blood not hurt me. How come I didn't know it was there, between my legs.I don't wan this, don't want this...I am I amToday I am swimming a bloody river.