it’s like all our bones // with their marrow and sliver // are made invisible // and our mouths are turned to hands // and instead of bodies we’re seen as shadows // and then it surprises you // when we throw our shades // throw our whole heavy weights // against the windows // and make the glass scream
If we’re going to think about the occupation we’re also going to have to think about what happens in the other room of the occupation. I’ve been thinking about “the other room” a lot lately.
As this body writes it will occasionally go into the other room to masturbate. To think about sexy or strange things. To feel intense, then dull. To take a break from being a writing body. To grow a smell.
Sometimes this rhythm, of writing then masturbating, is one that I can get really into.