Trackmarks Linear stigmata of addiction Tomorrow's scar tissue constellations disfiguring the body of work Phonetic glyphs of abstract correspondence Their outlines traced in blood Shrinking from the spike or splattering across the page A ring a ring o' rosies Moments when the final things are said Exposed in a brutal waterslap of clarity In the coupling of the sinful and the divine There's a fine line to be crossed Sequences of discrete but regular consummation inter-penetrating the punctured bodies with the syrup poison of transgressive desire Wasping decorations Fading in time from some Long lost personal campaign Along cablestitch flesh Lesions where the world has entered us These tender spots Rubbed by unconscious gesture Til they stand chafed and pert Prized in their shame Less they scab over With our ability to be touched Behind the scenes of the crazy ward in all cried out lucidity Doubting Doctor Thomas Pressing our wounds in the chemical light of analysis The marking on our skins The words we choose to speak The nettle of awareness we nurse Haphazard paths through the wilderness Creasing the undergrowth with bruised stalks Discernible only by the spoor of some animal long passed Tiny clues to unknowable awareness Patterned sigils in the drying clay Trackmarks
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