Ataraxia

You’re the anchor

In my wrists

The gleaming blade

In my pendulum

.

You’re the cavity

In my quiet smile

The heave of my

Vulnerable pericardium

.

You’re the torn skin

In my cold lips

The glint of light

In my glass shards

.

You’re the smudged dust

In my spectacles

The blurry red eyes

In my polaroid discards

.

You’re the voice

Inside my empty lungs

The sudden curses

Under my breath

.

You’re the comatose

In my hazeless dream

The last vaccine before

Infection leads to death.

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