there’s a roar
deep within graceful
windpipes. the hollow caress of
mindless touching, to be fickle
and small is to be you,
cauterizing me with those hands.
please, pinch me,
bring me back like whiplash and
land in child’s pose.
pray for a connection.
for revelations, i melt into you.
when My boundaries are
waved into a dream
with demons in the backseat,
madness itself pumps the pistons of this engine.
alone with my skin
i’m unrecognizable.
we sit together, me and it.
rotten fruit blooms in my gut
and my ligaments have ivied
nothing but beauty in nature.
Victoria Wan, ’25