#eye #eye

SEND ME PACKING



What if I am against boundaries? Reactionary proof you could seep in touch every part of me I cannot reach

Disgust me send me packing*

I never wanted that

Until This Very Moment lying face down its obvious

That I need it and I always have since I was the type of child

To spend hours in waiting rooms for appointments booked

On the next day -

Here I am having my fifth shower of the night tender pruned fingers mining hard into the soap bar

And looking at the weight of my hands the importance of the holes

Broad in depth and damage stuck forever under my fingernails

I encourage it up and don’t think about how I will clean it out

I welcome consequence -  Again,

having my fifth shower of the night.

Living with the doors open its a direct line

To my room where I’ve lost gage of what kinds

Of nights shouldn’t (or are too fucked up) end in masturbation

In 2008 my dad buys me pepper spray from the

Flemington markets I fuck around with the can and set it

Off in my face. I can’t go numb so

I press my pruned fingers on

My swollen crotch and Am

defeated by myself again.

Violence overwhelms us strangely, foreign to the order of things** and

I’m gunning to be in the passenger seat where we’re

Driving anywhere and deal without

words for the while cause Some things that have happened

aren’t words at all

I type them out and they light up with the red error line there’s a space between

Silence and silent, its spilling out of my mouth but how am I supposed to have

Anything to say.



*Irene Stilt My Pleasure

**George Bataille The Tears of Eros















Here I am having my fifth shower of the night tender pruned fingers mining hard into the soap bar

And looking at the weight of my hands the importance of the holes

Broad in depth and damage stuck forever under my fingernails

I encourage it up and don’t think about how I will clean it out

I welcome consequence -  Again,

having my fifth shower of the night.

Living with the doors open its a direct line

To my room where I’ve lost gage of what kinds

Of nights shouldn’t (or are too fucked up) end in masturbation

In 2008 my dad buys me pepper spray from the

Flemington markets I fuck around with the can and set it

Off on myself (or in my face?). I can’t go numb so I press my pruned fingers on

My swollen crotch and Am

defeated by myself again.

Violence overwhelms us strangely foreign to the order of things*** and

I’m gunning to be in the passenger seat where we’re

Driving anywhere and deal without

words for the while cause Some things that have happened

aren’t words at all

I type them out and they light up with the red error line there’s a space between

Silence and silent, its spilling out of my mouth but how am I supposed to have

Anything to say?

What if I am against boundaries? Reactionary proof you could seep in touch every part of me I cannot reach

Disgust me send me packing*

I never wanted that

Until This Very Moment lying face down its obvious

That I need it and I always have since I was the type of child

To spend hours in waiting rooms for appointments booked

On the next day





I could have a go at translating the ways I been asking before I knew

(I want to eat a bowl of soup and be held by you)**

(Please tell me what you want me to do) (will you Teach me one of your tricks) –

**Ananya Pandya