Kellen thinks he found an outlet for his insomnia.

Soft and innocent at first, like fingers tracing on the lover's back. The fingers skim along my jaw line slowly, hopefully.
Bam.
Finger nails like razors found under huge oak workbenches 15 years later, rusted, bent, and chipped. A bloodless cut in the cold. Along the jawline my face is split. The fingers are desperate ones, working violently back and forth for each finger hold, tearing muscle and nerve and skin unforgivingly. The lover is off on blow now, and it rushes through the veins of the finger tips tearing through the nerves that make your face twitch. Say Cheese. Hardest was the improved tactics, the use of the eye sockets to lift the skin with a fist. Pulling straight away from my eyes, redder than the blood that finally floods down my jaw. Hoping to black out after half your face now used to be half your face is a mistake, leaving you to compromise, barter, grovel. To be scalped the entirety of your skin has to be removed from your skull. If only my hairline was an inch forward... The rusty razor blades, once proud tools, begin jabbing without regard in a rough out line of where your hair used to meet your face. Fingers driven by an attack to the nervous system pull you straight away from yourself to get a better angle to release the last few inches. Last couple. Last...

Toooooo muuuuuuch Chuck Palahniuk too much too much too much too much too much too much too much too much