It was a Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening that sat him bolt upright in bed: the exhilaration of falling still present in his lungs and in his spine, each hair a tingle with the feeling of plummeting weightlessness and nothing to stop it. His eyes know too well how to catch the unfamiliar things that move in the farthest reaches of vision, creeping carefully as to go unnoticed. At the small of his back a layer of hot, toxic perspiration that hardens into frost the moment he leaves the bed.
He brought the razor to the angular beam of his jawline, dragging its most perfidious edge through the stubble in quick, raking strokes. It had been years since he'd used a straight razor to shave but, given these particular circumstances, this momentary lack of resources brought him no other perceivable options or tools. All it took was time to produce the same captious results -- this being the primary reason for its contingency -- and after having washed away the foam, the scrupulously silky skin hidden beneath was revealed. It's appearance was that of an effulgent ivory, bringing with it an almost translucent quality that he had still not gotten used to. As though it were someone else holding his hand he examined the blurry reflection in the blade closely before gently placing it flat against his throat, the cool steel feeling frigid and expectant. As for himself, he failed to recognize the body still flecked with bruises and minor lacerations from four nights previous, a spatter-work cluster of pallid greens and yellows interspersed with vibrant purples and reds against an ailing, bitter canvas. The pearled handle of the straight razor shone dully in his hands; he'd not felt this strange roughness against its surface before. Upon noticing it, he opened his clenched fist and read the inscription that he found there: "Aut viam inveniam - Aut Faciam." He fumbled to close the blade, the locking mechanism snapping unexpectedly into place; naturally came the recoil and down the blade went with a clatter into the sink. He cursed as the razor took a strip of his flesh along with it on its descent. Sedated eyes gazed back mistrustfully from the mirror at him.
But, seriously guys...
Why can't we just write each other's descriptions?