CAEDUS

EXPOSURE [A POINTLESS WAY TO DIE]

there is a human pinned down
to styrofoam in the corner of this museum
that yells in canon to every clipped
scene of taxi driver i have ever seen.

he is twitching as if a fly is landing
on his lips and his lips are 99% of him.

everyone is looking to him like a modern
madonna. I see him as ordinary chunks
of marble left over from the art maker’s
insistence to remove excess space.

he condenses the room into his corner
and carries on a dance with his eyelids
and stumbles on his pupils; one step too
many out of order and lonely.

he is curating himself as sacrilege
|to this religion for miserable humans
who see themselves dying inside
a pointless light.

SEARING OFF

poetic – truly acidic;
the way this gender
is taught to beat
tender into submission.

i saw the iron
flee from the steak;
seasoned, cooked
too perfectly
to be considered
my first.

the way it bled
onto the carpet
as it was passed -
fire to the plate.

fibers turning plump
absorbing the juice
and burnt bits
which trickled down
my knuckles -,
burning.

UNTITLED UNTIL I FIND MY TRUE SELF

i’ll clean my teeth
to drink orange juice
and in the pockets
of each sting
i’ll hold onto life
and remember i am
meant to be constantly
experimenting.

Image ID: a black square overset with a grey line that forms a circle before turning inward to render the profile of a skyline. Below the ‘buildings’ white letters in all caps spell out CAEDUS.
Caedus is breathing and writing.