The Absence of Touch
Touch has a memory
that is its own interior
language of pleasure,
because touch wants to be touched.
You have forgotten that pleasure.
Without this memory, touch cannot be.
Without touch, you are hollowed out.
You are now a receptacle for things.
The absence of touch is the
absence of you;
your sense of self—its language—has been taken from you;
you have become a mere place in which things happen,
a place that holds the weight of an end table,
a lamp, a bookcase.
Now touch has disappeared from your life;
you no longer exist as a physical body
but are now made up
entirely of objects;
your arms and legs and torso are only there for show
—to look like
a human being;
you are a shell,
a casing,
a container.
Touch has disappeared from your life
and you have become a mere
place in which things happen.
_____ AKSHR
No comments:
Post a Comment