God of the synapses      I cannot esC-
Ape—even my teeth      taste your dusT.
Cars pass by and I am      eight aG-
Ain, swearing off sex:       moonlighT
Through the trees I’d      say: love was pA-
Gan land. Are these      youth’s erratA?
(Glint in the mirror I      am trying to reC-
All) But I have been      your obedient hosT.
Good fuck is a good      fuck. MonolithiC
At night, pixilated      shoulders cut ouT
A world to bury in     . Three years ago iT
Came to me while      I was shavinG.
The face was finally      poking out beneA-
Th youth. Something      about the eyes A
Certain haunted look      it was everythinG
At once. I look like      dad, I thoughT.
Good then, I know      you, spread out, cryptiC,
A machine, product       of recombination, whaT
The body can’t rem       ember, can’t forget. A
Giant making skin      and bone, a noC-
Turne in the cells.       Outlast me, my comA
Gestures toward me      but I know this is no aC-
Cident—it is terrible      that you are always turninG.