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He tells me online life is orgiastic,
all mental spasms, congealing cancerous
cysts licked by dread, self-flagellating
until torn + tarred + turned on:
– u ok? –
Cossacks everywhere, hoofbeats,
drumbeats, that ultraviolent noise,
sensory deprivation up-regulated to desensitization,
bodies buffeted by a furious sound
like fear frenetic,
all heat + vibrations,
yelling until hoarse, until tears treat
the wounds, until they hurt harder;
they’re supposed to hurt, the florid tatters,
what’s left of the skin bouquet?
Who’s it all for? The faraway looks, statins
for arterial plumbing replenishing the cancelled,
disinterested smiles dissolved into blood electric
sour switchboard sparkling + sending + saving
malware for the soul.
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Words by Kaleem Hawa.