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Uboa
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In The Beginning Was The Word

my psychoanalyst said that “we need
to build you a body”
just before coming out

“coming out” is almost accurate,

but before I did there was no in/out or exteriority/interiority
just This
 an unending suffocating godhood
the Male was everything quite literally
yet it is maternal,
a womb of body hair and shoulder blades

it was lonely being an organelle
we figured out a method for
making everybody else exist
using words as a razors
but also with literal razors

I am no longer afraid of hell
just “the Other”
as a singular they
sometimes I fall in love with them
when they are not killed by the sign, but
often I am afraid of them and
they extend out like the totality
of every wireless network linked as one,
unbirthing

 primordially homeless, I don’t

need to return

to any particular 

   space

as long as there is one I can hide in
my analyst (a one of the many-faces
of the boneless god of extended flesh
barely kept at bay by a paltry fence known as
he pronoun “she”) calls this schizophrenia

I call it mitosis

I am so sick of being alone, yet
every lump of flesh I excise from myself
rots away instead of becoming a friend

(typos/punctuation fixed 2023) 


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