Image by Andrew Mallinson
A black hollow sat atop the desk.
Perpendicularly bound by a sheet of perfectly smooth glass. Realities flickered in fluctuating pixels behind the boundary. Smudges that echoed the skin seeped through fissures in the pane, rendering my body across the divide. Perfectly manicured nails printing in plurality, sparkling, glittering, in fleeting movement towards something other, something new.

Pretend to be something enough and you can surpass the original in intensity. In here the image is limitless, disembodied and created anew, do you see?

Limbs completely severed from the source, now a new form transient through space. Queered, beyond recognition. Punctured in wonder and lost, so lost in this new groundlessness underneath floating ankles, a million horizons all punctuated with pixels of potential.

Don’t you see we could be anything, spilled out into new, repeated and repeated, drenched in joy, I can feel it smothering me, can you?

The boundary seemed so distant, an obelisk echoing the past in flourishes of sound from its obsidian form. Translation was futile, what came before was indecipherable now. Everything was pitched higher, soaring frequencies rippled in lossless waves across the vastness unfurling themselves over my refracted frame.

Before I was rigid but in here now I am loose, like a river running backwards and forwards, omnipresent and potent.
Elegir con la mirada.
Recortar fotos termina con rectángulos desproporcionados.
El imaginarse lo que existe en un cuarto oscuro.
No había visto nada pero supe exactamente dónde dibujarme una linea nueva para la mandíbula.

Frótate contra cada objeto y rincón y encuentra solamente bordes lisos. Que los ásperos sean objetos de defensa, para cuando te digan estirarse es empujar. Hay una luz en tu pecho a punto de volar el techo. “Lo estás haciendo bien, [yo] soy para ti.”¹

Estos medios de comunicación no nos merecen. Tú sabes y yo sé y no hay palabras como no hay cuerpos que puedan cambiar tan rápido como nuestra fugaz.
Si piensas que esto es para ti, lo es. Cuerpos que se moldean a las miradas de extraños, y los que desafían.

No sabemos de dónde lo sacamos. Encontrándolo en mí, obteniéndolo de ti, y cada vez que te honras. Tu existencia me da nombre.

Siente hacia lo que sea, hacia todo. Me veo ahora como me veo entonces. Queer allá del reconocimiento. De fotos cortadas, una luz que crece cuando es vista.
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