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Your hand is all I have to keep me hanging on

@recoveringfromllfe

Tektite

Can a stethoscope

detect a rote of monotone

once stripped of all rhizomes

cold as the last touch I received

but my ancestors are here with me

appendices inviting a nuzzle

but words murmured only befuddle.

His absence hovers like an exhale in cold steam.

My offspring has been abated

and my vines are drenched in occlusion

dendrites severed there is nothing to extend

distal platelets inching out to meet your hands

an endless tetany of denim

snug on me like my grandmother’s voice to

stay alone, stay alone

I couldn’t not wear it

sketching you underneath my tapestry

floating on me like a corpulent sea

dampening my dream

could never achieve neutrality

fingered out my scars in the stars

I could interpret the shapes as I pleased

I didn’t have to decide.