I walk through the grass. A tick lands on me, and I feel its feeding structure penetrate me like an expression of empathy. I could keep going like this. I could keep being taken from.  

The tick’s anticoagulant makes me high. I see colors I couldn’t see before. I sense the odors of the world, and they are reddish and brown.

I remember my last blood meal. It was much more than I thought I could eat, but I ate it compulsively, with the fondness of a carnivore. Somewhere in my genetic material, I knew I needed the blood meal in order to change, to move to the next stage of my being. Thanks to the blood meal, I am now further along than I ever was.

The grass is always greener on the other side. The grass is longer. Deer walk through it. Humans walk through it too. I cast my watery eye toward the grass and feel desire with my whole flat body.

Now I can feel that it’s my season at last. I land and I attach. I pick where the skin is thinnest. I do it fast.

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