for Malinda
Talking about who we are roadtripping through ourselves to reach – the strain
of bacterial me that’s multiplying away from here with its mutations and
circadian rhythms – she said her who was some older man that never loved her back.
I said my who was the face I’ll have when the world is ended, once I’ve known
everything. Then
we hoovered some more and continued.
Taking about why we are roadtripping through ourselves – why not? It seems we all have
an inescapable compulsion for self-internalisation: one of these days
we’ll infold ourselves – anus over esophagus and vice versa – into a cherrypie mess.
Then it’ll be the worms roadtripping through us. Just to get to the other side.
-Rae x
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