Poetry

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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.