imagine:
an open palm slowly and cautiously extends towards you with that familiar scent a warm fragrance emits from its aged skin, tough from years of labor but still, that hand is comforting and brings you to ease every time it is before you on this occasion, it bears fruit with its unassuming palm to the sky, it offers its gift, a gift for which you neither asked nor probably deserve you see its life line; it is long and rich in color slowly the palm lowers itself to meet you you lunge, mouth open, teeth revealed, and in your haste bite its flesh, drawing blood you realize that you enjoy its taste: savory and full-bodied the hand is shocked, terrorized in fear this has never happened in its paralysis, you bite again and again to quench your thirst, a thirst you didn’t realize you even had time ticks, and before long the hand is incapable of escape eventually, after you have left it maimed and mangled, the last ounce of life escapes its carcass
