Her First Fire Dance

And it won't be the last because she has persistent parents, save the step- for someone who gives a fuck. It's only a matter of pride, my Lion, so take what is rightfully yours and if it involves arson, well, I won't tell no one. This is a bandit's life and it comes and it goes and them's the breaks and if you think you can 4-1-9 B-O'-A without getting tracked down by a real fuckin' dirtbag then you haven't learned a thing. But you don't have to be wound so tight -- you men only pretend to lack self-control. And that Beak's gots no nose for decency and her veins course with envy and I've been called worse by better and despite the ease of the reference I'm not talking about llello (yayo, retard.) I'm talking about a hundred different things, like left-over meatballs and Made Fresh Daily, because the farther away I get from this silly, stupid pastime of mine the less I have to say and the more difficulty I have with saying it. To obey is to resist. To shun is to adore. Maybe I just outgrew that last one or met my quota because I would sacrifice nearly everything for a little kindness (and I did.)

Where I Feel Things (Anatomically Speaking)

Joy -- my cheeks
Pleasure -- my thighs
The pain of forgetting -- my spine
All that's been lost -- my pancreas
Small, daily humiliations -- my liver
The pain of remembering -- my spine
Disappointment in myself -- my right kidney
Disappointment of others in me -- my left kidney
Violence -- the place behind my eyes that tingles before tears