In the solitude of airports
I breathe again

I am a privileged person
My nausea is a privilege

Protected by torture
Barbed wire Prisons
(Photograph of the author.)

I don’t want to eat drink breathe love a woman a man a child an animal anymore. I don’t want to die anymore. I don’t want to kill anymore.
(Tearing of the author’s photograph.)

I force open my sealed flesh. I want to dwell in my veins, in the marrow of my bones, in the maze of my skill. I retreat into my entrails. I take my seat in my shit, in my blood. Somewhere bodies are torn apart so I can dwell in my shit. Somewhere bodies are opened so I can be alone with my blood.

My thoughts are lesions in my brain. My brain is a scar. I want to be a machine. Arms for grabbing Legs to walk on, no pain no thoughts.