This is how

where did you come from? I want to fold you up and put you in my portfolio, carry you around with me wherever I go and take you out sometimes and show you to people and have them admire you secretly and happily.

you came out of the tnedons in my wrist tightening and relaxing, you came out of the blood feeding my muscles, you came out of my bones moving the way my nerves directed the muscles to move them. you arose by a mechanical biological phenomenon over which i have both no and all control. you came from my body doing what its electricity tells it to. you derive from a spark in my ganglia. you travel through my body like a wave of light too small to see, fed by a voice too distant to matter much and yet it matters everything. i can feel you moving in there, aching a little, pulsating as you slide from axon to axon along dendrites between synapses. i can feel my muscle cells passing you out into ink.

where did you come from? how did you arrive? Are you decaying? I hope so and yet don't no not at all but here: decay! decay and therefore become something new and yet more perfect and still worse than what you started as. keep the door open. the draught feels like a new memory or an old fear of the unknown. keep the door open and the windows closed. dont forget to place yourself in the inbetween. dont forget to be neat and perfect while framing yourself as the helpless. dont forget how it felt to be in this ink, lodged here stuck and corroded. remember how you flowed from me solid and slippery, look at these configurations of letters do you understand them at all?