The folds of you

I’ve already made the incision between your ears, and pulled back the skin to expose your skull. Like peeling stuck wax.

Once I’ve sawed through the bone, I’ll remove the folds of you, your memories, your self, and weigh what there is of you that is left.

Your self has the consistency of creased jelly, and when you’re out and in my hands I won’t be able to return you to the place where you were found.

Instead I will stick you into a biodegradable plastic bag, and stow you amongst the mess of your abdominal cavity.

It will be impossible to put you back together as you were.