95 Theses

I’m only hearing

muffles of

weeping or bleeding,

The ducts and lining,

uncertain,

unaware

There is an undulation,

a gust of voices,

a screeching of birds

hiding in my midsection

Come up and out of my face or,

push out and through my genitals

But please, please

commence your travels,

for I am your subject

At the mercy of your whims

Or dare I say,

your incomprehensible intelligences

My wits only identify

the tinging of

electricity and water

The gurgling at the center

provides no clear channels,

no clear pathways,

no thesis

Nothing

Dare I give over

and trust this

unknowable, dark sea?

I must,

otherwise I’ll

take pain meds

and never learn to

sink and then swim

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