poem

i need pen and
paper to exercise
my visceral
reaction. the blood
flow to my tips,
blueing my nails my arm
shakes and hesitates and
the ligaments pull
and bend, give way to skin
shade up down in
pockets of flesh. what
is more:
the highlight or
the shadow the concave or
the convex the push or
the pull, muscle tense or
relaxed. scar on my wrist
never fades, blends red
into the vein spots
the balls of my
feet red and itchy
toes, itchy
neck red and blue and
purple, royal, dark, linear and
geometric synthesized
shape elongating my
limbs i gray it
blends i gray and
royal darkens
blood spins
fingers ache but
i am

(i run i run i run i run i sick up i run i rhythm i run i sit up i run i stomach i run i sick up then)