A distance without imprints

I know what you think of me.

A mildew manifesto on your pillow,

My head. A template for seduction.

Clinical. Nauseating. Recycling bodies.

The foreign odour. The song of the banal.

Absorbing you, absorbing us, eating me up.

You lie as you create and I pretend to like the obscene.

The gore that your body emulates and I

Holler even though I want to sing.


“Black and Red” by John White Alexander (1856-1915)

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