I should not be here.

"..work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt and dance like nobody's watching."

?

No.

"..work only when you need food, never love, never dance."

Slick fragments of skull, blooming outward. Clear liquid, feathered ankles. Silver chills.

No home left; memory fake.

Sitting in a shopping trolley, rushing towards...

Feathered ankles?

?

I should be there.