My teeth, despite being electric,
cannot hold back the curses.
Many portions of bone green despite age.
Hate & fear surge forth through the vessels,
limping back blue and love by veins.
My eyes a dada overlay feeding images
back to willful neurons that don’t fire on all cylinders.
My voice cracks, hums, croaks, drops
into the low vibration of birthing stars.
Fingers a folded texture, hair unbound,
muscle memory a gun alternately loaded
with blanks & hollow points.   

I adore all of this.
I am a text that cultivates ambiguity.