the body as toyhacked. body as premature goreform, a marionette of blood and fluid and sinewy muck. body as more. body as rubylipped ocean, as in drenched in you, as in hoping for something to grasp onto. body is trapped, body is recycled from its O t h e r l a c k. b o d y a s I m a g e , polaroidpunctured flashes of late night; body as peerless void staring right at you.
the body shudderfogs the Form of you in the gyroscope of seclusion vestibule blue. how do you know how you feel, how bad you make the body hurt, blankness pulling you to a threaded nothing, haze of insulation pink. do you think the wetslick of courage vestiges time on the tongue like eyelashes, like wishing for ashen stars of Artemis pounding in your chest?
body as dayveil twitching in the periphery of your retinas, probing for further instruction. when you need to wait for the body to sharpen to a quiver of arrows. then, aim (far away from yourself).
