Little Death (a text)

It intersects me at one hundred and fifty angles
the extrusion’s positioned both within and beyond
to my side and upside down
making a motion that
only when mapped onto my dimensional axes
feels like gyration
but more likely unfolds sixwards into an oscillation across planes
nonetheless the hormones rush through what’s left of me
my skin gives up comprehension
interprets what it can
somewhere in the dead network of my lost evolution
the wrongtalk signal for some kind of mating
erupts the heat in response to a manifold caress
the brain tries at comprehension
but it only has one language
and googol-translates the touch into human
human fingers human hands
tracing patterns they shouldn’t, would never
there’s no human there
human’s not what I wanted
human is closed and I needed possibility

the protrusion doesn’t look like anything
bent wrongly into the corner of my universe it could look like anything
my two eyes catch the light at conflicting angles
but I always liked the feeling when your eyes don’t agree
proof that space is an in-between derived from double awareness
this thing though
the light forgets how to hit it and leaves skid marks
and my brain can’t attach meaning to the resulting visual
but I think my partner knows this
because my partner can read every last line of my existence
the shape warps into multiplicities
and maybe it’s nothing
or maybe it’s all my fetishes at once
every fantasy knotted into a lattice of light calibrated to strike my brain and elicit a specific result
and the heat waves continue
inches of skin tangling with soft friction
reality receding in ebbs of streaming need
messily devolved human urges grasped in an idiosyncratic way by my partner
our mismatched miracle

but it’s not enough
the skin is not enough
the images are not enough
the emotions are not enough
they are the journey and I need the destination
I need it deeper
I need that instant of inhumanity
the urge to become pre-conscious
that animal
I reach deeper onto/within/beyond/between the conflicting edgefolds
my body perhaps maintaining a shape
mapped across the matrix of my partner’s endlessnesss
laid bare like a diagram I feel nude
and my partner operates naturally
process evolving with what I still perceive as time
accepting
rebalancing

the intrusion’s bio-dance draws to its denouement
the sensations aren’t so much direct as everywhere
everything
and as I reach in
the bag of cells inside my skull is tessellated with an open information system
intact yet apart
I’m overloaded
I’ve come I’m gone/////////////////
flooding out
ultra-reality flooding in
the body abandons shape
the mind abandons the conscious
not for the safe animal but for the secure everything
from beginning to end it sees this universe is Something
there is the peace of the birth and death of time
the partners now indistinguishable
the echo of what was human screams
not knowing any better
not knowing anything really
don’t trust it
what could fear this?

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