CAEDUS
EXPOSURE [A POINTLESS WAY TO DIE]
there is a human pinned down
to styrofoam in the corner of this museum
that yells in canon to every clipped
scene of taxi driver i have ever seen.
he is twitching as if a fly is landing
on his lips and his lips are 99% of him.
everyone is looking to him like a modern
madonna. I see him as ordinary chunks
of marble left over from the art maker’s
insistence to remove excess space.
he condenses the room into his corner
and carries on a dance with his eyelids
and stumbles on his pupils; one step too
many out of order and lonely.
he is curating himself as sacrilege
to this religion for miserable humans
who see themselves dying inside
a pointless light.
SEARING OFF
poetic – truly acidic;
the way this gender
is taught to beat
tender into submission.
i saw the iron
flee from the steak;
seasoned, cooked
too perfectly
to be considered
my first.
the way it bled
onto the carpet
as it was passed -
fire to the plate.
fibers turning plump
absorbing the juice
and burnt bits
which trickled down
my knuckles -,
burning.
UNTITLED UNTIL I FIND MY TRUE SELF
i’ll clean my teeth
to drink orange juice
and in the pockets
of each sting
i’ll hold onto life
and remember i am
meant to be constantly
experimenting.
Caedus is breathing and writing.