art is a cube with an artist inside. Outside, any vehicle of comprehension macro to micro attempts to explain
the (w)hole
in f in it e l y pierced cube surface
is not a permeable guarantee
I) must be guided by a tug at the end of the vaginal canal
traveling gutward through my throat
speech.
if it is immediate, (compelled without thinking)
or contemplated so thoroughly, it reflects perfectly
what one's brain wishes,
haunts
as our body (its own cube)
exists in a space.
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