We Must Require Rag-Dolls to Die in Order for the String to Survive


Artisan swagger instructs rag-dolls to inform their phlebotomist
That string lacks agency.

When syringes loop fiber like a spindle in motion
What fills the CCs lacks the consistency of liquid matter.

When a toy-maker pokes his finger and splotches of blood mottle a rag-doll
He weeps.
But only for a second.

When humans play God
And cry
It’s akin to masturbation.
We must never allow failure to compliment
What we did correctly
Or else we risk
String for blood.

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