poke
door opens— am i the fool? gloves snap, now i’m playing my role unstained steel tray cradles your tools you wash me clean, i cede control
you sketch small leaves in purple ink i play with you, this is our game when it’s all done, what will they think? art, artist, work— all share a name
calmly you ask “ready for stabs?” there’s not a way for me to know is this your temple or your lab? we share one breath, it’s time to go
your sword and your eyes penetrate music and pain blanket my brain sometimes we should disregulate questions pour out, blood from a vein
hours pass as you make passes pricks turn into private pleasure when we are through, our flesh collapses every mark is made forever