a painting none of us can crawl in or out of a maze of tiny staircases stick out of your skin: descend and discover openings broken vats, bits of brain floating in amniotic fluid miniscule rips in your side are entrances to a larger cavern where chained philosophers praise their dancing shadows on the walls of black lungs when I lie on top of you the serrated edges of tiny structures puncture my skin until we are full of symmetrical slots; these are collisions decorating surgical bodies splayed on a table limbs pulled back with pins when aroused by instruments we liqueify until all that remains are fragments: a broken foundation stairways drained of blood ribs curled in on themselves debris drifting, bloated with life I only wanted to feel moisture and the proximity of organic things. Imagine Nietzsche crumbling and sobbing against a horse's body, face pressed against the hot skin, whispering we are all broken <<        >>