Sunday, April 29, 2018

vanishing act


all my posts are the same these days. my edges are blurring. can you see through me yet? can you see what's behind?

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i cannot feel my body beneath this soft flowing grecian dress. the wind whips through and i evaporate, ephemerate into particles of dust. i want to disappear because i do not exist. poof. smoke and ash.

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my stitches itch and drive me crazy. stop reminding me of this body i do not want. i just wanted to cut through to see what was underneath, but i didn't even get that far. i am still suspecting it's hollow in there, a great black dank cavity where all this dissonance is stored.

but i am too many fragmented parts to find a starting point. waif with a festering mold inside. the kind you find in your fridge four months after you thought you lost that mixing bowl, the kind with green and brown hillocks and valleys to study and examine in fascination. the kind where you cover your face for fear of inhaling the spores. i try to cut it out and starve it out and sick it out and intellectualize it but it's spreading and i do not know how to stop it. in birds it's called asper and it's fatal. in me it's called trauma and i refuse to die.


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