I set the damned clippers to #8 just to see what it would look like
and now my chest is so itchy
what a big mistake
Is that shudder, shiver
a slug recoiling from pressure, firmly filling its nonexistent shell,
a dense length of muscle yet to be unwound
is that the fire, magic, chemistry?
or some intangible force that acted upon me when I saw a certain smile
and blue eyes
is that every person? or nobody? is that the flint striking steel?
what is this metaphysical force that the crazy people talk about
the fifth element, which I do not posess
incapacity to love
or to say I love you.
Selflessness is selfish
Utter kindness is banal
The ego, our animal forces, drive our animalistic urges
a sense of mystery, of propriety
selling one’s self, showing the leg and lifting the red skirt ever so deftly
a stumbling, bumbling oaf
toad giving into the killer’s pressure
whilst leaking out toxic transmitters of fear
but against it all
the need to shed
to be truly alone
is the key
I’ve never been good at picking locks.