i come to places where i can stich a notion to my entire body of chemicals.
Strange things happen here.
A women die each day/ there are ways and methods for it/
a loop of sorrow sinks like an abortion.
And a mist encircles my eyebrow, like a wide corridor collapsing.
i visit places that connects me to a numb mind.
I ask a numb air to swallow my left arm,
for it knows the bends and the geometry.
Often, I collect marbles/ potions/ circumstances that live like a vein inside me.
I fix things.
fixing like a plumber of times.
beneath the archaic tenderness of joy,
a butterfly evolves.
a blue coloured life dripping from my body
my entire smouldered body.
i drip and collect myself all alone.
The dissection of women.
Words and pic- MVS