She is just a little girl, but it is about to get very cold in here. fragile millimetric frost in layers, peeling up, shining through, letting incoming light come through, shock me, panic me, make me, revealing guilt and what to do with it. With waste that cannot be hidden, mud-like material to learn from, to apply on. Acknowledge it, admit it. There is no such word to make it up, fix the toxic mark, heal the broken bottle, used needles, anything left behind, any trace that tells me. Pure venom. Bite, lethally bitten. There is always a cut of skin, that’s what sharp objects are for, cutting.