Boxcutter Facelift

the scent is unmistakable. a trunkfull of sallow skin sacks, slowly draining fluid through pinwhole perferations. so compliant, so terrified. an exquisitte boxcutter facelift births a chloroform smile. ear to ear with crimson jubiliance. dont even breathe. each gasp pulls slivers of rust from your lips, floats them down to your lungs like paper. each shaving of bone falls to grace the floor. were I not a respected surgeon, I'd act on the urge to wallpaper the room with whats inside you.