Make of me
To make of me is to offer mutation to oblivion. To make of me is to body burst until heaven.
To make of me is to create an in-fidelitous descendant of the self with a part of self.
To make of me is to offer up your pound of flesh in sacrifice to the mirror.
And the mirror requests specifically the skin as offering.
And to mirror is to seek the mimesis of the capitalist young girl who gazes back as she bears tatters of your surface.
As she is your virus, using you as the means to reproduce—to cry, to fuck, to hold, to destroy, and to love.
And you hope to resolve the uncanny limitations of your access to this girl.
Because you somehow miss her.
- Poem by Andra Nadirshah