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detachable

i want to cut the men out from underneath my skin

my body bucks and shakes

another place

pulls at the cords embedded in me

 

i am not of here

your language is not my language

and the way you move your hands is strange to me

your people peer at me

and their eyes show me to be transparent

 

my form careens and wavers in alternation

i cannot record or observe myself

the air here shrouds me in plagues and sensitivities

my body is a battleground

 

i dreamed that i vomited out of my nose

and the space behind my right eyebrow collapsed

if i am only a shell for regurgitations of my surroundings

where does my image exist in full detail?

where did i hear this?

who do i hear now?

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b
Written by
beth-winters
Published
Mar 21, 2013
Lines·Words
19·133
Notes

six days ago.

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