the shape of things

beyond a figment of imagination
and in impossible melodies
i sing my body electric

i feel the four walls around me
and i am thankful
even as they close in

i want to pretend that i am not pretending
i want the sadness to be a sentimental melancholy
but it is full frontal
it is a new kind of sadness
from old things that are no longer here

maybe its just their shape
maybe its just their smell
maybe it’s just the way they fit
into place

and now the places where they once were are hollow
and the infrastructure can’t support the weight
cracks and fissures erupt and spread
i can see them fan out with each deep breath
with each contraction that my male uterus makes
as i push
my friends
my work
my madness

i need to find new foundation
or old foundation that has lay dormant
i need it to come into service again
or begin the process of tearing down everything to begin anew

or both

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