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the bloody chamber
an ongoing personal exploration of my queer identity and struggles with fibromyalgia
Skin
Poem by Jack Greer in response to my photograph above
Shadowy creases flatten
under scrutinous glare
whose pale sheen exposes maroon
gashes split tight like ripe fruit.
Scars of longitude ripple
out from some quiet crevice
where self-hatred scuttles,
catching rashes of sunset.
But no one can see you
in dysphoria’s dusk fuzz,
where photons flitter in cold cosmic noise
like eye floaters, or phytoplankton.
Only skin-to-skin gives form,
the mingling of surfaces and layers
like waves caressing each other.
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