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.