guns blazing
minds racing

mythologies have made us wooden
we were high
we were lovers

now we are just
bodies lying on the floor
trying to remember our names


we tasted the dirt
living where it lay
(other people) whispered, symptoms
eating-stomach aches

these hidden afflictions
we don't talk about 
make my arms bend backwards
my mind shoots and shouts


last time we'd really been
talked through our teeth
i witnessed you obscene
plain sight, on fire in the streets

circulation is poor
as the beefy weekend protrudes
no one is a prisoner here
still waiting to occur,
as more than an after-thought
(personal admission of your obvious doubt)

to be free:

it's a hard suffering start
split, under-the-cover eyes
when sun's practiced position
mistakes this room for a shrine

created a great dioramic myth
neatly pressed domestic scene
an architect, cleaning behind the refridgerator
letting air out of tires with electric impulsivity

i'll eat the candy
i'll fill these lungs

blunt, complex periods of display
each relevant and impotent
let us stare a little longer
check our teeth in the mirror

your anticipated responses
cost all my history in self-control
encouraged to breath
my arms positioned, braced for uncertainty

All photo's by Francesca Woodman