It runs like a rash all over me and stings in its draping shroud like a jellyfish and devour whatever sanity I have left in my reservation. That's the tip I get from the silver platter I serve on. And I feel that maybe the life I'm growing on this earth now is just there for the usage of people scratching my raw flesh out. It's like having my heels scraped off from walking my bare feet on shards for them just so that they may have theirs well covered. And I do this even though it hurts. And I do this because I want to. And I do this because I love...