Twisting coil parasitic pores expand.
On the fringe of my lips sleep-starved.
Alternating between amphetamine,
With it's metabolic acceleration,
I like that.
Alive
Pure flesh
Pimples ejaculate
Spirals pallid yellow
Primal fascination.
I have a boil on my back;
In fact I have several.
I pop another pill.
Even my dreams seem
Preoccupied with
Inflammation, ruptured
Ovals, excretions
Morbidly drawn,
Repulsive expulsion.
The intense physicality of the poem made me think about the sharp distinction between the socially constructed identity and social restraint, social control and corporeal subversion, allowing me to see the space where subvertion of becoming takes place. To my surprise the visceral physicality of it's foreground make pathways through the dark wood to notions of transcendence which pops the bubble of protection of the human personality, arriving at the need for escape and bliss. It allows me to think through some entrenched paradoxes concerning flesh and spirit/physical and sacred
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