They are calling to me

trapped in white tubes

sonic disruption

traded for their flesh

was a plastic band


the printer blurred out

her maiden name

so she called her friend

who wrote it on the inside

of her forearm

with white henna to remember

she was not a code

in a system of dehumanized


I’m whispering back

at the faces of the living

locked to the gloom

of shiny surfaces

soulful distraction

I traded for their attention.

there is a ribbon made of kisses

smeared lavender lipstick


someone wrote on the inside of my forehead

with black charcoal

I’m decrypting

writing a language

bewitching poetry

awake again

*matthias geh, 9th January 2016

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