A phantom zips my eyelids closed.
Heaviness has dominated me.
Air is so thick, a weighted blanket.
Another shadow body
atop my own. I lost myself
in yesterday’s long fantasy.
Pus puffs on my kidneys. You can’t
process my gross annihilation.
You pretend it isn’t there because
the pristine form shines more,
dazzles everyone. Strangers
don’t know. They don’t believe.
Follow electric road maps with me.
Trace a finger down every vein
and try to find my heartbeat. Try to
pin down a pulse. Peel me back in
layers for the deteriorating
evidence you’ve been looking for.
View this vessel as it was intended.
Through autotracking. Gorgeous
90s glitched. 70s peachfuzz.
Early 2000s Boone’s Farm blur.
Damage. How little we know
of the extent of real damage.
DNA doesn’t forget. Bad genes
spawn in neglected places.
Memory can spark at the flick
of an eyelash. A long hair on
your arm in the night that feels
like a dozen spiders. I’m terrifying.
Decayed match. Corpse breath
by morning. This is true love.