I am a thing, human – strange,
My body is a thousand waving motions.
A million different particles that shift and work and move.
I undulate – I feel.
I weep, I breathe.
I’m constantly at work, all the tiny pieces of me.
I remember: a computer.
I smell, I dream.
I grow hair without asking to, and make up my own coloring.
I’ve been a tool of breathlessness, I’ve lived in others’ dreams;
But I’m a human, gross, alone –
moving through it all.
Tattooed by life and unexpectant,
amazing and alone, it seems.