Short Strings of Nothings

I can only bleed here because out there is like a mosh pit of irrational and oftentimes impulsive zoo animals bonding breaking biting never satisfied until a full octet and even then they climb hearts and destroy cages—I don’t really know why. It’s like they’re always angry the zoo keeper he’s never there so they throw tantrums and tampons and always they bleed, bleed like it’s normal like it’s something they’re all too used to. I can’t. I don’t. I won’t. Bleeding is for here and here only.