I feel you twitching
beneath the skin, itching,
supple suggestions
slipping into sinew,
a subtle sonar
to syncopate the sinus, incapacitate,
to alter the ego;
ego goes to id, super slipping
on its own judgement,
but if the ego goes, I go; ignite darkness.
I feel you pulsing,
pounding pressure
beneath the parts
still running,
still looking,
still trying to get
to that place that is implausible,
that peace
that paradise promised,
the parasites banished
and medication cannot manage.
I feel you turning
from tender to taunt,
tweezing threads from tissue
soaked in too much tears,
tears torn by talons
that have twisted
their way through
the ego’s dream,
the super ego’s nightmare
and revealed themselves
as victorious within the darkness
of those
internal desires;
id goes on. I blow out.

All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

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