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October 26, 2010
Drip...

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The water has filled the sink. It crawled towards the edge and drips to the warped linoleum floor.

Dripdripdrip

The knife slipped in your hand, cut your palm. Drops of blood fall, fall, fall to splash in the puddle at your feet, staining your socks.

Leaking faucets and bloody bodies have a lot in common. Despite the harm it does to the whole, they like to keep dripping. They fight the efforts of bandages and plumbers just for the satisfaction of watching themselves waste away one drop at a time on cheap imitation tile.

What are we?