To a body.

A solitary shitbeat for the human form. 12/18/2015.

I love your undulating, rhythmic feel.

Gentle slopes, elegant twists,

The flattening of wrist to hand,

The dendritic spread of hand to fingers,

The patterns of the ends unknown

But to the most loving eye.


You tell and keep silent a story.

The layers of your solid being

Write it one word per day.

A story of deprivation, discipline, anxiety.

Sometimes of jags, binges, benders:

The feeling of feeling nothing

By way of feeling everything.


Warm rich blood under thin skin,

The purple webs spreading

Fire to, water to, wind to

Your farthest reaches.

Slowly, sadly pushed/pulled by a dead heart.

Dead lungs drain.


The solidity of bone, universal format,

Structure identical, pentacle,

Yours and mine and his and hers.

Skin is skin-deep.

X-ray specs, connect connect.

I feel deeper and you can’t lie.




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